


The Beast in her Home

by ScarletRedfox



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Badass Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Chat Noir Being Chat Noir, Chat Noir is dangerous, Cop! AU, Cop!Mari, F/M, Humor, Marichat, Marichat au, Marinette is a hardass cop, Marinette is badass, Not Canon Compliant, a sprinkle of Lukanette but not much, be warned of puns, criminal!chat, forced living together, living together trope, some aspects aren't exactly like RL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-02-10 09:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18657505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRedfox/pseuds/ScarletRedfox
Summary: After Lieut. Dupain-Cheng apprehends the most dangerous criminal of France, Chat Noir, she is forced to live with him due to a shortage of cells to hold him captive. During the duration of his case being handled by officials, she will need to keep an eye on him. Marinette is no stranger to playing rough. Chat Noir wasn't one either. One of the best cops around forced to live with one of the worst criminals alone in her home? Only hilarity, chaos and a good deal of hissing ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This was originally posted on Tumblr (under my acc name lady-charinette) but I've been asked to post here too :) I hope you enjoy this! It's been requested on Tumblr, so as long as people like it, I guess I'll continue the story and see where it goes (so far only Part 2 is planned out)!

 

“Marinette, will you be alright?” Alya adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder and the documents of the case she held in her hand, warily watching the handcuffed man behind her friend, “Why don’t you just send him into one of the shared cells?” the news reporter glanced at the scowling but calm man, hands bound in cuffs, feet cuffed with a slightly longer chain to enable walking but not running. Even his neck was in a metallic collar, a restraining device.

 

She was surprised none of them were under electricity.

 

The dark-haired woman smiled, only visible to her best friend, “He may be a dangerous criminal Alya, but he’s not an animal. Some of them already sleep on blankets on the floor, until we get more room it can’t be changed.” She paused, lastly packing the files of his case in her bag, “Besides, he’s too dangerous to be in the same room as them.”

 

“Oh, but not dangerous enough for _you_?” Alya stared her friend down but Marinette shook her head, squeezing her shoulder meaningfully, “I’ll have you on speed dial, if you don’t pick up by the third ring, I’m coming over with a SWAT team.” The auburn haired woman fixed the criminal with a suspicious look, “And a shock stick.”

 

The handcuffed man narrowed his eyes menacingly in return and Alya had to admit, with the black mask hiding his identity, the messy blond hair and the weirdly, sharp-looking teeth, he _did_ look as fearsome as the media portrayed him to be. She tried not to look as fearful as she felt from the intense look.

 

“Let’s go.” Marinette’s voice when talking to the criminal turned from soft to cutting in an instant, commanding respect and authority, the badge strapped to her belt only seemed to accentuate that further. Sometimes, Alya was jealous of how quickly and effectively her smaller friend could command respect in a room full of people.

 

The reporter watched their backs as they exited, the chained man’s taller, bigger body nearly hiding all of her friend’s figure.

 

She clutched the files in her hands tightly, a copy of the ones in Marinette’s bag.

 

The name on top of the papers was printed in big, bold letters.

 

_Chat Noir_

* * *

 

The moment they neared the door he assumed was her private apartment, the woman quickened her pace slightly to reach it first and unlock it, punching in a code he couldn’t see and he briefly thought of commenting how it was dangerous to turn her back to him, but he bit his tongue.

 

He had no say nor power in the position he was currently in, the fact that the cop before him was fully aware of it aggravated his nerves.

 

She opened the door and he hesitated, feet planted firmly on the small rug in front of the door, the words “ _Welcome!”_ on it made him think this little arrangement would be anything _but_.

 

Her voice cut through his wandering mind like a blade, “If you prefer sleeping outside, that can be arranged.” He fixed the stupid cop with a glare, before shuffling his way inside as best as he could with his feet chained, trying to retain as much dignity as possible in his sorry state.

 

He stood rigidly in the threshold of what appeared to be a living room she’d led him to, warily straining all his senses, listening to the woman drop her bag somewhere behind him before moving passed him towards the connected kitchen.

 

She must’ve felt eyes on her, but didn’t react, producing something from her pocket before returning to his side.

 

He watched her warily, resisting the urge to try and headbut her and escape. What she did next caught him off guard.

 

She went on her knees.

 

His body tensed when he felt her hands on his feet, his teeth clenching in brief outrage until he noticed the pressure on his feet was gone.

 

He looked down.

 

She had the wretched cuffs in her hand, before moving up towards his face. He instinctively backed away, turning his head defiantly and she paused.

 

He resisted the urge to glance at her when she spoke, “You must be wondering why I’m taking away your chains. Well, that’s only for your feet and neck, these stay on.” She tapped the ones binding his hands and he’d figured they would, “You may be a criminal, but you’re not an animal. No one will be treated as such in my house.” Her hands carefully moved towards his neck, movements slow to not alarm him.

 

Her earlier words drifted back to him and he finally allowed himself to speak, “That wasn’t your sole reason for keeping me here, was it?” green eyes stubbornly refused to meet her bluebell ones.

 

She snorted as she carefully undid the thick metal collar on his neck, soft fingers briefly brushing against his warm skin here and there, his body was as rigid as a wall, “That was the number one reason, I guess, but you’re right, I had another one too.” He waited patiently, feeling the pressure around his neck loosen finally, “You aren’t an ordinary criminal, you would finish them in a matter of minutes and cause a scene in the department and try to escape. Putting you into the same cell as the rest of the criminals would be a rookie mistake.”

 

“But you’re no rookie.” Finally, he looked at her, toxic green eyes staring her down menacingly.

 

Her soft bluebell ones rose to the challenge, “Neither are you.”

 

They stayed like that in silence, gazes locked, a battle of wills silently communicated between them, neither of them willing to back down.

 

His gaze narrowed when she rose an eyebrow, “I do hope you enjoy Chinese cooking.”

 

She made her way back to her kitchen and he stood for several more minutes in the doorway of the living room, until the scent of the food, admittedly delicious, wafted towards him, he reluctantly walked towards the table and sat down at one of the chairs.

It sickened him to be reduced to a captive, but he would bide his time and plan his escape as soon as she fell asleep.

 

His eyes were locked onto the twin guns holstered to her hips and she was well aware of that fact as she reheated their supper, glad to have made a larger portion.

* * *

 

After supper, he’d rooted himself to the couch, his temporary sleeping space for the supposed several weeks until his case was handled and done for, he didn’t even dare think of if it extended to months. Even if it did, he would’ve figured out a escape route by then no doubt.

 

The woman was distracted now, she was typing something on her computer, information about him and his case scattered on the small chair next to her and the available space on her desk. His gaze flicked to the clock for what felt like the tenth time in the span of five minutes.

 

_11:55pm_

Did this woman _sleep_? Didn’t she have work tomorrow? Why was she still awake? He couldn’t do anything with her still up and about.

 

“You must be pretty impatient looking at the clock all the time.” He scoffed, flexing his hands, his claw-tipped gloves aching to sink themselves into her skin. At least she’d left his mask and everything on, despite her colleague’s urgencies to remove them. Either way she’d figured his identity out, or respected his privacy, none of which he believed. Why she did what she did, he couldn’t figure out. His identity was secondary in this case, or so they thought, his identity could remain secret a little longer, their priority was to locate all the links in his criminal organization, which was a difficult, time consuming feat of itself.

 

Having his identity wouldn’t reveal anything and since the woman caught on how important it was for him, she chose not to rip the mask off his face, despite her ability to do so. He didn’t want to admit it, but out of all the bluebottles in her department, he’d probably shoot her last.

 

“Does the cat need to use the litter box?” her snarky remark cut through the silence airily.

 

_First._ He released a low growl, shifting in his seat in displeasure. He’d be _dead_ than admit the slight urge to use the bathroom. He could last all night without going, but she didn’t have to know that.

 

The cop hummed slightly, “Sorry, that was disrespectful.” She coughed into her hand, returning to her research and speedy typing on the computer.

 

He felt sparks of anger curling in his chest and he had an idea. It was quite risky, but with her attention to the screen and his agility, he could just pull it off. The short chain on his wrists was long enough to be able to strangle somebody, perhaps it would work.

 

With no sound, he rose from the couch, waiting several beats to see if she’d noticed from the corner of her eye. He blended into the shadows of the surrounding darkness, the only source of light from the screen aiding him in hiding.

 

He moved behind her, her fingers never once faltering on writing the report she had opened on her computer, despite his close presence he was sure she must’ve detected. He’d dropped the plan when he saw the dual guns still strapped on to her, he was sure she had more hidden weapons somewhere on her body. He wasn’t a fool, but he would try to find an opening.

 

His gaze cut to the top of her head, he knew she was also aware of his hidden intent, “Hm…you didn’t flinch.” The chains rattled slightly when he grabbed onto her chair, he scented the air like a cat, “You have no fear either…”

 

Her voice was calm, even, “Is there a reason to?”

 

He chuckled darkly, eyes glowing, “I’m a suspect in multiple murders, leader of a lethal criminal organization.” His knuckles were a hair’s breath away from touching her back, “You know about my training and yet you dare to turn your back to me?” an amused grin curled his lips, feeling excited about a challenge.

She scoffed softly, “The same can be said about you. I assume, you’re well aware of _my_ training and you suspect me of carrying multiple weapons on my body, which I won’t correct you on.” Her fingers typed with the same fluidity as before, “So tell me, _why_ should I not turn my back on the _innocent_ man in my own home?”

His grin left his lips, “Innocent man?” was she delusional? She herself called him a criminal!

This time, she turned her head slightly, just to see him from the corner of her eye, “Suspects are innocent until proven _guilty_.” She stood now to her full height, a head shorter than him, the chair was the only thing between them now, “For as long as the investigation runs, you’ll remain here where I can keep an eye on you.” Her knowing, fierce expression melted away in a calm, _almost_ kind smile, “Isn’t that right, Chat Noir?”

 

He bit back the scathing retort bubbling in the back of his throat, instead he fixed her with a look, the air between them thick, “If you say so, _lieutenant.”_ Her title was dripping with venom and mockery, but she didn’t let that deter her at all.

 

“I trust you can arrange your bed yourself.” Her gaze briefly flicked down to his bound hands before gesturing towards the couch, turning around to shut down her computer and gather the paperwork.

 

He scoffed, silently planning her early demise in the morning.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

It couldn’t have been past three o’clock in the morning, at least that’s what she thought when she first woke up to go to the bathroom and stole a glance outside at the dark night sky.

Marinette paused in her hallway to listen for any disturbances.

It was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Marinette raised herself on her toes, as silently as possible making her way towards her living room, where she’d left the criminal to his temporary sleeping space.

Her accelerated heart beat calmed when she spotted his silhouette covered by the blanket, moving slightly in tandem with his breathing. He was still there.

Good.

She stood there in the doorway, her hand curling into a fist, her voice barely above a whisper disturbing the silence of the night, “I know you did it, but I don’t have any proof yet. Once I do, you’ll end up in the cell.” She turned around to head back to her room, “You’re nothing but a murderer, after all.”

She failed to notice the green eyes staring into nothingness, fists curled and trembling beneath the pillow under his head.

Once she laid down on her bed, she tried to let sleep claim her again, but it proved difficult. She thought about the case, about everything they had so far.

Murders, thievery, arson, multiple identity thefts and forgeries, among some accounts of apparent prostitution done by criminal groups said to be associated with Chat Noir’s organization.

The network was said to have spread in several cities, perhaps even countries. Perhaps Chat Noir’s influence and power was greater than any of them realized, he was a wanted criminal for well over seven years. That was when the police first took notice of a series of crimes that were related, it could’ve been even longer since he was active.

Marinette sighed, shutting her eyes tightly closed and settling onto her back until a sudden icy sensation caused her entire body to still. The air shifted, why, she didn’t know.

Tiny, pinprick needles seemed to stab every pore of her skin, her blood seemed almost frozen in her veins and the sheen of cold sweat spread out over the entirety of her body.

Something wasn’t right.

When she opened her eyes, Marinette was petrified.

Toxic almost glowing green eyes stared unblinkingly into her own from above, something menacing in the way the slit pupils dilated, like a feline predator staring into the horrorstricken eyes of its prey.

Marinette tried to scream, but a gloved hand, tipped with sharp claws, settled over her mouth firmly, so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Her body barely responded to her commands, she kicked, swung her arms wildly to no avail. The man remained seated atop her, each futile movement deflected like a fly and Chat Noir used more strength to press down against her mouth, nearly crushing her teeth with his hand alone.

Panic washed over her senses, her heart beating wildly as she tried to claw at his arm and get him away but all it managed to do was bring a grin to his face.

A wide, unsettling grin. All teeth. Sadistic. Cruel.

_The look of a killer._

She began to feel dizzy, the lack of oxygen to her brain started made her movements frenzied and sloppy, the criminal atop her wasn’t disturbed in the least, he calmly watched the fight slowly leave her, wild, unfocused pupils finally trained on his cold, sadistic form.

She felt the sharp claws run down her side harshly, like hot blades cutting through butter, deeply and easily, drawing blood, but all she felt was cold, so, _so cold._

_What…_

_No…_

_How did…how did he remove…the handcuffs…_

_Why…why was she…so weak…did…did-was she drugged?_

Nausea spread over her entire being, she felt encased in ice as the gaze of her killer rooted into her mind.

Those cold, menacing green eyes…

_“Sweet dreams, princess.”_

Marinette’s eyes widened.

_No!_

_N-_

Marinette jumped, body lurching forward, eyes wide and unfocused as they scanned her entire room for any sign of the shadowy demon from her nightmares.

She touched her face and sides, blindly checking for the bloody wound. Her skin was smooth, unmarred.

She was safe.

Marinette clutched desperately at her speeding heart, taking deep, measured breaths.

Was that all a dream? She wasn’t afraid of the criminal sleeping on her couch, why would she be?

Marinette ran her hands down her face, the insistent buzzing of her phone only now registered.

Just who in their right mind called so early in the-

They were all from Alya.

_“Girl!”_

_“Giiiirrl! Answer your damn phone!”_

_“Are you alive!? Marinette!”_

_“Did Chat Noir do anything to you?! Oh my god, did you do anything to **him**?! You know you need him alive for the investigation, right? MARINETTE DUPAINCHENG!”_

All were sent within a few second time difference of six in the morning.

Now it was 6:30am.

Alya was going to have a fit.

Hastily, Marinette’s still shaky fingers typed a quick reply.

“ _Hey, Alya. I’m fine, sorry I didn’t answer, slept in. Be there soon.”_

_Sent._

The dark-haired woman sighed, running a hand down her face and through her hair before she took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself to confront the demon in the next room.

He was a criminal, despite what she said, she had to be wary.

Stretching and quickly hopping out of bed, she quickly changed into her work clothes, buttoning up her dress shirt and throwing on her dark blue blazer.

Grabbing her shoulder and thigh holsters, she quickly adjusted them on herself before opening her door cautiously, memories from her dream – _nightmare_ – in the back of her mind.

The living room was still dark, the blinds pulled down so sunlight didn’t immediately blind her when she came in.

When Marinette turned to the right, expecting to see the still sleeping form of the criminal she was housing, her blood ran cold.

It was empty.

The couch was empty.

Blankets strewn about, no sign of Chat Noir.

Just where could he-

“ _Gah!”_ a sudden force slammed into her side and her feet cleanly left the floor, body colliding straight into the armrest of the couch, a pained cry leaving her lips before her hands automatically moved to grab onto her guns.

Two hard strikes from claw-tipped hands easily disarmed her, dual guns sliding far away from her on the floor.

Marinette blinked rapidly, trying to gather her bearings when she felt painful pressure applied to her captured wrist, a dark voice promising pain whispering into her ear, “Good morning, _lieutenant._ ”

That mangy _cat_!

Fueled by anger and adrenaline, Marinette quickly struck her leg out, relief washing over her when it struck him in the stomach, a sharp cough reaching her ears before she used the armrest to gain momentum, headbutting him harshly.

Chat Noir stumbled backwards, holding his head when she advanced on him, elbow successfully hitting the side of his head. She yelped in surprise when she was thrown off by the forceful shove of his legs, his weight holding her body down onto the floor. 

The sight of a wide awake, glaring Chat Noir making the nightmare come back to her, “You’re fast.” His comment made her want to punch him, it just oozed with mockery and some sick glee from their brawl.

“And _you’re_ in a breach of protocol, do you _want_ to be sent to prison that badly?” she grit her teeth, the sting of pain from her side reminding her of the damage she sustained and made her acutely aware that her weapons were out of reach.

Marinette’s gaze briefly flickered to the chain still around Chat Noir’s hands and that’s when he lunged.

His hands went for her neck first, just like a lion to its prey, but Marinette crossed her arms and pushed his hands away, shoving against his chest and raising her leg behind him, just barely making contact with the back of his skull, but that was enough to daze him just a bit.

She quickly shoved him off her, staggering to crawl over his lap and to her discarded gun.

Marinette was proficient enough in hand to hand combat, what she didn’t see coming was his incredible speed and agility that far surpassed anyone she’d ever seen move.

She was fast, but Chat Noir was faster.

She felt more than saw his body slip out from beneath her weight and felt the full brunt of his harsh body tackle on her back, clawed gloves grabbing her stretched arm, fingers just shy of grabbing the barrel of her weapon.

“Oh no, you _don’t_.” his hiss rang sharply in her ears when she elbowed him again and Marinette released a short cry when he roughly slammed her elbow down on the floor next to her head, effectively rendering one of her arms useless.

“…Well, well, well, who would’ve thought. The _purrincess_ knows how to fight.” His threatening purr directly into her ear made her nerves light on fire, white hot anger racing through her veins at the thought of losing to _him_.

Princess? Did he just call her _princess_?

Marinette completely relaxed her body, her heart beating violently against her ribcage as she fought to regain her breath, “…I never thought Paris’ most handsome criminal would actually harm a woman…” her voice was carefully low, a tone she detested to use but nonetheless found useful.

She hoped it would work.

She felt his shift above her, the air tense, “Tch, what are you getting at, _cop_?” his voice was full of venom, but Marinette pressed on further, raising her hips for emphasis.

She _almost_ felt bile rising in her throat, “Nothing, _kitten_.” Her voice dropped a few octaves, a seductive lull and Marinette used Chat Noir’s momentary confusion to attempt to headbutt him again.

It didn’t connect.

“Tch, stupid woman, did you really think I’ll fall for that?” his amused tone made her eye twitch in annoyance.

Still, she smiled, “No, but for this.” Grabbing a hold of the ceramic bowl that had rolled out of the cupboard near her, Marinette reached her arm back and slammed it against Chat Noir’s head.

She almost winced in sympathy at what pain it must’ve dealt.

Using his momentary stillness to her advantage, Marinette used her whole strength and weight, muscles tensing in preparation.

He was too late to react.

With a cry akin to that of a warrior heading into battle, Marinette threw the man straight into the TV and low table, shattering the screen and tough wood in the process.

A low, drawn out groan of pain broke the silence that followed and when Marinette finally staggered to her feet, she had her gun pointed at the unconscious criminal and her phone pressed against her ear.

“Yes? Good morning, could you send some backup to my house? I got into a bit of a cat fight.” Marinette promptly ended the call, hissing when she shifted her weight on the wrong foot, “Bastard…ow.”

Her eyes gazed over the still criminal, fully understanding she could’ve lost her life in the scuffle just now if it weren’t for her quick thinking.

Nathaniel will eat her alive for shattering the precious bowl that laid in shambles underneath Chat Noir’s body, the shards covered by the splinters of the table.

She grimaced when a thin trail of scarlet trickled down the side of the blond’s head and cautiously approached the unconscious criminal, gun still poised while she leaned her body forward to inspect the wound closely.

Green eyes flew open in that second and a strong arm coiled around her waist, bringing her body forward on top of his.

Marinette immediately tensed for another fight, but she realized the grip around her waist was weaker in comparison to his earlier holds and his eyes were pained and still dazed.

“…You …” a sharp hiss, the black cat ears atop his head flat to his skull, “d-damn…” Chat Noir’s eyes closed and his head fell backwards against the rubble, falling back into unconsciousness.

Marinette knew he was at the top of the criminal food chain, but even she didn’t expect for him to briefly wake up now, not from all the blows she’d dealt to his head.

Nathaniel used tough materials for his creations, it wouldn’t surprise her if one of them could crack open a skull.

She _really_ hoped he would forgive her for that bowl.

Marinette jumped when the door to her apartment flew open and nearly tore it off it’s hinges, a loud, booming voice breaking the silence, “ _Lieut.!_ ”

Marinette winced, trying and failing to move in her fatigue, “…Not so loud, please.”

“ _Marinette!”_ a distressed, female voice sounded right after.

_Oh shit._

“A-Alya!” Marinette weakly scrambled to move away from Chat Noir, but failed, hands slipping and accidentally cutting her palm on one of the shards on the ground, “Ouch!”

“Call for an ambulance immediately! We have two injured here!” the voices of Kim and Ivan barked orders at the uniformed people suddenly swarming her home and Marinette couldn’t bring herself to care.

She just wanted to sleep.

Without further ado, Marinette leaned her head against the warm and surprisingly comfortable chest beneath her and closed her eyes.

* * *

 

“You look like you fought a pack of wolves.” Alya’s dry comment made Marinette roll her eyes.

“He’s not that different. He has claws too.”

 _And serious strength_. But she wasn’t about to praise the enemy now, not in her condition.

She bit her tongue from yelping in pain when the doctor applied the gauze to the cut on her palm, one last time checking the large bandage wrapped around her middle.

It was an ugly sight, the skin slightly swollen where she’d hit the armrest of her couch, but no sign of bruising yet, the doctor assured her that would come later, she had bruised ribs but that was all.

“You did a number on him though.” Her gaze traveled to the other end of the infirmary, two officers along with the form of the sleeping criminal made her scrunch her nose in distaste, “It’s a wonder he has no concussion.”

The old doctor smiled, “Indeed. He’s sustained several moderate injuries, but he is surprisingly durable.”

Marinette snorted, carefully pulling her shirt down and rubbing her tender limbs, “He’s got a thick skull.”

Alya chuckled, “As do you.” The small smile vanished from her lips, “You wrote you were fine, why did you lie to me? Do you know in what kind of danger you were in? Mari, he’s not some petty thief next door, he’s Paris’ top ranked criminal. He could’ve _killed_ you for fucks sake!”

While Alya was usually prone to more colorful and expressive language, it took a lot to make her swear like this, Marinette rolled her shoulder, testing its flexibility, “I didn’t, I _was_ fine at the time. He ambushed me in the living room and…well this happened.”

The reporter walked over to help her best friend carefully put on her blazer, “I’m glad it’s just that and nothing more, you’re still alive and not in a wheelchair.” She sighed, “Why don’t you just throw him in the cell?”

The lieutenant immediately shook her head, “I can’t, he would be too much of a danger to the other criminals.”

“Oh and not much of danger to _you_?! Marinette this is serious! I don’t want to lay awake at night worrying if this guy choked you in your sleep or not! He needs to be locked up!” the dark haired woman regarded her seriously, before scratching her neck.

“…I’ll tighten up security at home. It’ll be fine. I’ll have Kim and Ivan share shifts to watch over him when I go to work.” Marinette was already checking the schedule on her phone until a tanned hand covered the screen.

“Marinette…” Alya’s concerned eyes looked at her imploringly, willing her to understand, “I know this is your job, but don’t get killed doing it.”

Marinette’s expression softened and she hugged her best friend tightly, feeling relieved to feel the touch of a person not out to hurt her, “Says the woman climbing on top of burning cars to get the latest scoop.”

Her teasing comment was immediately met with a annoyed huff, “That was _one time_ girl! I had Alix’s firefighter’s helmet on!”

They broke apart and Marinette fixed her with a look, “Only because she threatened to spray you with the hose if you didn’t.”

The auburn haired woman rolled her eyes, smiling despite the teasing, “Alright, come on, let’s get you something to eat and leave this place.” She glanced briefly to the side, but quickly averted her gaze.

Before they left the infirmary, Marinette looked over her shoulder one last time.

She could’ve sworn she saw Chat Noir’s hand twitch.

* * *

 

“Lieut.” Marinette’s head rose at the sound of her title, smiling slightly.

“Hello, what have you got for me?” she greeted her colleague, accepting the stack of files he handed her.

“Um, pardon my asking ma’am, but…” he glanced around himself, “When will the criminal be released from the infirmary?”

Marinette rose an eyebrow, “Why are you asking?”

The young man seemed to sweat as he twiddled with his fingers, “…To tell you the truth, everyone is waiting for him to leave or be locked up or be somewhere far, far away..if you know what I mean.” He glanced at her nervously. She could clearly see it in his eyes.

_Fear._

She cleared her throat, “I heard he’ll be well enough to leave this afternoon.”

The young man quickly nodded, excusing himself.

The lieutenant sighed, sitting back down at her desk and slaving over the paperwork, eyes scanning over the report she’d gotten.

“ _…It is said that the swing of his blade is like thunder – deadly, precise, burning. His movements were those of a predator, patient and smooth but foreboding and intimidating, never ceasing it’s relentless pursuit of their prey. It is said the last thing his victims see and hear are the toxic green eyes and the flash of pristine fangs glinting in the moonli-“_

Marinette massaged the spot between her brows, irritation increasing tenfold, “Marc!”

A sudden crash, before the young report writer came jogging up to her, a sweet, shy smile on his face, “Yes?”

Marinette gestured to the report file in her hands, “What is this?”

Green eyes glanced at the file then back to her, “The report based on eye witnesses of Chat Noir.”

“Marc this…this sounds like some crime mystery story!” she couldn’t believe this had been verified, just who in their right mind-

_Alya._

She could practically _hear_ her friend’s words in her mind _, ‘Sorry, girl, he’s still in training.’_

“I-I’m sorry! I promise I’ll try to fix it!” carefully grabbing the report from her, Marc quickly bowed his head before rushing to his own desk at the back.

She watched him go, internally debating whether to continue working on his case for today or not.

She flipped the page, his photo staring up at her, “ _The look of a killer…”_ a shiver raced down her spine and Marinette tried to shake off the ghostly touch.

Movement caught her eye and she glanced up to her computer screen, her e-mail open.

She had another mail.

It was…

A message from… Marc?

With furrowed brows, she opened the message.

_“Dear Lieutenant Dupain-Cheng,_

_I’m very sorry for the delay of the report!!”_

Marinette swirled around with her chair, spotting the shivering mop of dark hair before it promptly dived behind his computer, out of sight.

She sighed.

* * *

 

As it turned out, Chat Noir had remained another day in the infirmary and she got forced on more check ups to confirm she hadn’t sustained any more damage from the fight.

It was time to take him to her apartment again.

They must’ve looked quite the sight, her bandages were mostly hidden by her blazer, save for the bandage on her hand and chin.

He had a thick plaster stuck to the side of his forehead above his eye, along with more smaller plasters on his cheeks and nose.

The black suit he had worn was replaced with a dark jacket over black pants and a grey shirt with a cat on it, she had to school her features to not giggle at the sight, but the icy glare he was sporting was enough to banish any thoughts of amusement.

His legs were once again chained and she didn’t think she would remove those anytime soon since the incident last morning, the normal handcuffs were replaced by tightly bound, durable cloth which she assumed wrapped his bare hands as there were no signs of any claw tips poking through the fabric.

Lastly, his neck had a thick chain and she grimaced at the sight.

He was injured and chained up and he looked like some battle-hardened stray from the streets. He almost didn’t look human to her.

 Marinette cleared her throat and looked at the two policemen standing on either side of Chat Noir, “Thank you for watching over him, I’ll take it from here.”

The men however kept a firm grip on the criminal, “We were tasked to escort you to your apartment.”

Confusion washed over Marinette, “By whom?”

Wait…

“Me.” The familiar male voice came from behind her and Marinette rose an eyebrow.

It was Luka Couffaine, her superior.

“Luka,” she normally addressed everyone formally at the office, but working hours were over, “What’s the meaning of this?”

Blue eyes narrowed, not at her, but at the man behind her, “I’m just doing my job of protecting my employees.” There was a growl from behind her but she ignored it, “I’ll have two officers stationed around your house Lieut. Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette frowned and took a step forward, Luka’s eyes finally moving to look down at her, his icy glare softened, “Luka, I haven’t gotten injured badly, you know I can keep watch over him.”

His voice lowered so only she heard him, “After what happened yesterday, I can’t allow to see you injured again or worse.” Concern briefly flashed in his caring blue eyes, “Marinette, you know as well as I do that he’s not one to mess with. It’s always safer to have backup.”

“But-“

Luka gently squeezed her shoulder, before moving passed her towards the captive criminal, “Chat Noir.”

“Colonel Couffaine.”

Both men greeted each-other with detest dripping from their voices, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

“I trust you’ll behave like a good cat if you don’t want to get beaten half to death in prison.” The bold words even surprised Marinette. She knew Luka could have one hell of a mouth, but to be so deceptively calm and talk like this, it unnerved her.

A devilish grin crossed the criminal’s lips, “Says the pet snake of the police force. Say, what’s it like gobbling up the little rats and scoring such big prey due to a _leaked lead_?”

Luka’s shoulders stiffened and Marinette braced herself, as if expecting a physical fight to break out, before Luka raised his hand and took a hold of the fake cat ears still atop Chat Noir’s head, pulling roughly, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll behave and listen to your master.”

With that, he released him, turning his back to Chat Noir, who glared daggers at him, “I would be _carefur_ choosing your words, _snake_.” the unsettling grin on his lips made a shiver run down Marinette’s spine.

She’d rarely seen Luka so hostile. She looked back towards Chat Noir.

He was already looking at her.

* * *

 

“Thank you for escorting me, officers. I wish you a good night.” Marinette smiled kindly at the two uniformed men, watching as they left and moved to stand guard at her house for their night shift.

She sighed, locking her door and turning around only to find Chat Noir already walking towards the living room, his boots already off. How he pulled them off with his feet chained, she had no idea.

After taking her own shoes off, she noticed something odd about the criminal. He was limping.

She remembered their fight yesterday, but couldn’t remember striking his legs. It had all happened so fast, she wouldn’t have been sure if it really did if it weren’t for the bandages and the pain.

Tired from the day’s work, Marinette placed a glass of water and some cookies on the table and left, shutting off the lights, leaving Chat Noir in the dark.

When she made it to her bedroom, she made sure the door was locked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone! Tell me what you think! :3


	3. Chapter 3

 

A green eye slowly fluttered open, disturbed by the soft sun peeking through the half pulled down blinds, until a sudden shadow completely covered it.

Immediately, instincts kicked in.

Chat Noir, in his still sleepy mind, forgot about his chained state and did a backflip, staggering to a landing and falling backwards onto the couch, fake cat ears atop his head pulling back as he snarled into the still dark room.

Two large shadowy figures blocked the sun, standing vigilant in front of the large French windows right next to the table in the kitchen.

His skin tingled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood in warning, sensing the threat, until his eyes accustomed to the darkness and recognized the uniform of the tall cops.

Ah, that’s right.

He got captured.

Tense muscles slowly, reluctantly relaxing, he leaned back, ears still perched forward, eyes glued to the two men outside. It was still too dark to see their faces, but he didn’t need to, he could sense their contempt as they kept watch over him.

He’d heard while pretending to sleep in his stay in the infirmary, that the woman would be assigned two additional officers around her house. Thankfully, they weren’t inside, otherwise he would go insane. The woman was bad enough.

Gods, that _woman._

He snarled aloud, causing one of the officers to shift his weight, whether in uneasiness from the distinctively feline noise or at attention, he didn’t know.

Chat Noir sighed, shaking his head, hissing at the lack of movement of his whole body. He could barely spread his feet as wide as his waist, his hands were bound tightly with some form of durable cloth, without his gloves. It felt odd feeling something other than the assuring, protective leather he usually wore, adorned with lethal claws at the tips.

He wiggled his fingers, testing their movement and clicked his tongue in distaste.

They really chained him up like a dog.

Not even the woman released his neck and leg cuffs, she’d obviously learned from their scuffle just two days ago. He’d really thought he could easily knock her out and escape, but she proved to be more than he expected.

He rarely ever underestimated his enemies, but he hadn’t expected someone of her caliber to be on the side of justice. She would look good in his ranks.

He suddenly remembered her little trick during their scuffle, when he had the edge while towering over her.

She’d tried using honeyed words and seductive tones to catch him off guard, as if he was just any hotblooded male off the street.

 _Tch_.

He had much more refined tastes.

…Though he couldn’t quite deny she wasn’t good-looking. At least a bit. He still had eyes, he could admit to that.

Chat Noir shook his head, craning his neck and easing the tense muscles, once again training his gaze on the two figures shrouded in darkness at the windows.

Security may have tightened up just a bit, with him fully bound and the presence of the two additional officers, but if enough time passed, one of his men would find him here and free him.

He was sure Hawkmoth would try to overthrow his units, but the insect wouldn’t dare if he knew what was good for him. He had too many loyal followers to simply change leaders overnight. It would either get Hawkmoth killed in his thirst for power or kicked out. Either way, without manpower, Hawkmoth shouldn’t pose too much of a threat, since his forte lied in emotional manipulation. As long as he had no people in emotional turmoil near him, he was virtually harmless. However, his greatest weapon was that of emotions, he was like a bloodhound, sniffing out any weak link and mercilessly exploiting said weaknesses and use it to his advantage, shattering any emotional defenses the person had.

Chat Noir sighed, he would worry about that after he got out of here.

His gaze moved from the two officers to the empty plate and glass on the table.

He remembered how the woman left it here last night before going to bed and locking her bedroom door. He didn’t know why, he thought at first she might have poisoned it or put some funny drug in it to mess with his senses, but after carefully sniffing it and deducing it didn’t smell suspicious, he swallowed the (thankfully) small cut pieces of fluffy bread and managed to slowly clench the glass in-between his teeth and tilt it slowly towards his mouth and swallow down the water.

At times, he was thankful for his survival skills. They came in handy every once in a while.

Still, he pondered why she would offer him such courtesy after injuring her in their skirmish. She could pretend all she wanted, but it didn’t go unnoticed by him, how she slightly favored her side or rubbed her arms every now and then.

He knew he was needed alive for their little investigation, but for all she was concerned, she could’ve just given him some food or vitamin pills, that would sustain him.

He shook his head, hissing at the sharp pain shooting through his skull.

Ah, right, he didn’t forget the injuries she inflicted on _him_. He was thankful he grew up in a rough environment, otherwise his skull would’ve split open from the many blows she’d dealt it.

Not to mention that _clawful_ bowl. Just _who_ in their right mind even made them so _hard_? Those things could kill a person!

In his distracted thoughts, Chat Noir only noticed the passage of time when more and more sunrays entered through the gaps between the blinds, bathing the room in soft, warm colors. It felt good seeing something else other than the pitch black of the darkness or the stark white of the infirmary he’d been in.

His teeth clenched at the memory, not the infirmary in particular, but the snake he’d met there.

He hadn’t thought Couffaine was in charge of the unit here in Paris, last he heard, he was off somewhere in Ireland tracking one of the false leads he’d set up. The snake was more cunning than he thought, it only took a few months until the bastard came back, instead of the two till three years it should’ve took. He was a pesky thorn in his side, but not a serious threat, the man was far too cautious to simply storm what he suspected to be one of his main ‘dens’, as the snake liked to call his hideouts, to really pose a danger to his operations.

 _“Hm, seems like the snake shed some of his old skin too.”_ He thought with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Chat Noir didn’t miss the way the man’s expression softened when he’d looked at the lady cop in the infirmary, he also didn’t fail to notice how she immediately addressed him by his first name instead of rank or last name. Nor the way the former marine had become directly hostile to him either. He usually refrained from crass language or getting physical since his time in the marines, to think he would be swayed by that woman…

Chat Noir took a breath and dispelled his earlier thoughts, once again turning his attention to the two buffoons outside.

He could slightly make out their eyes due to the sunlight outside, signaling the arrival of morning. To fight his increasing boredom and restlessness, he settled back against the soft cushioning of the couch and opted to stare at them intently.

One of them shifted slightly.

Chat Noir could do this all day.

* * *

 

She had been staring at the ceiling since the first rays of sunshine peeking through into her bedroom.

That had been at around 5:30am.

Now it was roughly 7am.

Marinette turned restlessly, hissing through her teeth when she accidentally rolled onto her bad side, the one with a still forming purplish-blue hue on her ribs.

Curse that cat.

He was evil incarnate.

Very briefly, she wondered if he ate the food she left him and drank the water, but then quickly dismissed her thoughts. She shouldn’t care, he was a criminal, she knew she was supposed to treat him as an innocent until he was officially declared guilty, but Marinette couldn’t let that settle well with her, especially since she re-read cases connected to him and his lackeys in the past.

The only horrible things he _hadn’t_ done were rape, child abuse and human trafficking, at least it hadn’t been documented. She was immensely grateful she wasn’t housing a child molester or rapist, she could stomach anything else, but these particular brand of criminals _always_ left a acidic aftertaste in her mouth and made her want to punch them on sight or worse.

Those cases, she left for her colleagues dealing with sexual assault, while they also got a few cases involving pedophiles and the like, they were thankfully small in number and usually taken over by the colleagues of the SVU.

Marinette checked her phone, replying quickly to Alya’s messages asking if she was alright and alive.

She rolled her eyes at several of them.

_“I’m not sure if I have to ask if you’re alive or him after what happened on Monday.” 7:00am_

_“I hope you locked him up in the basement.” 7:00am_

_“Girl, I’m serious, don’t force me to leave the team and check up on that monster myself.” 7:01am_

Marinette typed back, “ _One, I don’t have a basement and two, it’s against human rights to lock somebody up against their will and it’s called false imprisonment, Alya.”_

The reporter must’ve been on break or out of the office because she replied in seconds.

_“You’re a cop, girl! Break the law a little!” 7.01am_

Marinette sighed, shaking her head, “ _And you’re a reporter working with the police! Don’t worry Alya, he’s restrained and I locked my bedroom door, it’s fine, I’m getting ready for work now. Bye.”_

She waited for several beats, getting another parting message from Alya before she placed her phone on her night desk, getting out of bed and putting on her work clothes.

Marinette watched the door a little too long, taking a breath and undoing the lock, hearing the click before she finally swung open the door.

It was quiet again and Marinette’s instincts tingled, a familiar feeling welling in the pit of her stomach. It reminded her of Monday, before Chat Noir ambushed her.

Fighting off the phantom pain spreading through her abdomen, Marinette carefully neared her living room.

Marinette nearly jumped at the sight of two large men right in front of the large double windows, staring straight at Chat Noir.

When she turned to look at the criminal, he was sitting quietly on the couch, staring straight back.

“…What’s…going on?” she didn’t know if she should be worried or relieved.

The blond’s tone was clipped, as if he was already losing his patience, “They’ve been here the whole night, at some point they switched guard dogs.” The term he used to refer to her colleagues slightly irked her, but she let it slide in favor of a peaceful morning.

If one could have that with a dangerous criminal in the house.

When Marinette threw a second glance at the officers outside, she recognized them, “Kim! Ivan!”

Kim the slightly smaller of the two, gave her a friendly wave. Marinette immediately opened the window, “You were sent here for watch?”

It was Kim that answered, Ivan was still holding a staredown with Chat Noir, “Hey boss. Yup, pretty much. We overheard Luka mentioning guard duty for your house, so we signed up.” Kim scratched the back of his neck, “Though I gotta admit, staring at this guy the entire night wasn’t a pleasure.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the still glaring criminal.

Marinette understood where he was coming from, she would’ve gouged her eyes out if she’d been forced to stare at him for so long too, “Hey, why don’t you call it a day and send in for two other officers? I’ll just grab a quick bite to eat and head off to work.” Marinette paused briefly, “You guys want something to eat too?”

Ivan finally broken his stare down with Chat Noir to smile down at her, “No, thanks Marinette. We’re good.”

Marinette just heard Kim complain about not accepting her offer just as she slid the window closed. She had to smile before she set to work on fixing a quick, lighthearted meal.

She was making scrambled eggs and fixing herself some cereal for breakfast. Once the eggs were done, she slid them onto a plate to cool.

She ate her cereal quickly, eyes alternating between watching the clock and the man sitting quietly on the couch.

Chat Noir was silent, oddly docile since their scuffle on Monday. He reminded her of a stray laying low on the streets and nursing its wounds after a fight with other cats. She supposed she did the same, interacting with him only when strictly necessary.

Still, the fact that the only thing he ate since last night was a glass of water and bread spread with butter didn’t sit well with her. He was bound to be hungry.

Mentally steeling herself, Marinette grabbed fork and plate and carefully walked towards the male.

She made sure her footsteps were light and slow as to not startle him, she didn’t know if his silence was from exhaustion or from being lost in thoughts, whatever it was, the last thing she wanted was to provoke a hostile response.

She slowly settled on the low coffee table opposite of him, balancing the plate with steaming scrambled eggs on her lap and stabbing them with the fork, lifting it and gently blowing on it before presenting it to his face.

Chat Noir stared at the fork, then the glaring green eyes moved to meet hers, “No.”

She couldn’t stop the eye roll even if she wanted to, “You’re hungry.”

He snorted in disbelief, “How would you know, cop?”

“You only ate bread from yesterday, _cat_ , so you’re bound to be hungry by now.” She tried reigning in her anger, but it was bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting to come out and tear the jerk to shreds. He was a criminal, but not even criminals could ignore basic needs for long.

He scoffed again and turned his head defiantly.

He was even more difficult to deal with than the government.

“Look, I can’t take these restraints off you so…either you eat like a real cat or we make this quick, Chat Noir.” The use of his name made him glance at her briefly, but he returned to stubbornly stare at some spot away from her.

She waited for seconds, minutes, patience running thin, until he finally turned his head towards her, jaw set, shoulders straight, eyes narrowed.

He shifted, moving closer towards her and bending his long legs to minimize the distance and chances of making a mess while eating.

They both jumped when their knees suddenly touched and Chat Noir hissed in warning when she almost poked his eye with the fork, “You startled me.”

She wanted to point out that he jumped too, but refrained and succumbed to her demise, guiding the fork into his mouth.

It was after the third fork that she grimaced, “Can you _not_ glare at me while you’re eating?”  she stabbed at the yellowy food, lifting the fork near his face again.

He chewed, a devious smirk stretching his lips once he swallowed, “Why? Am I making you _nervous_?”

Another eyeroll, “Just shut up and stop looking at me like that.”

He didn’t.

_What a jerk._

His glare softened after some time, but his intense look remained, watching her as if she’d disappear any minute.

She heard snickers and turned around.

Ivan and Kim were both chuckling at them, Ivan was more restrained and tried being serious, but Kim was covering his mouth with one hand to try and curb his laughing.

Marinette sent them both a glare and when she turned back around to continue feeding the man before her, Chat Noir was glaring daggers at the duo.

“Hey, lieutenant would it be illegal to-mpff!” she shoved the last pieces of eggs into his mouth, ending what would undeniably be a death threat towards her friends.

He glared at her and she nearly tripped over the stretched leg that suspiciously blocked her path. She returned his glare tenfold, both parties staring each-other down, “Don’t even think about it, cat.”

“It would look like an accident.”

“ _No._ ” what was she _doing_? Why was the criminal so casual? He must have something planned. She wouldn’t let herself get swayed by casual banter.

A sigh from behind made Marinette briefly stop rinsing off residue bubbles from the now clean plate and glance behind her. Chat Noir was staring at the ground as if lost in thought.

Was he plotting?

She didn’t want a repeat of Monday morning, so she had to be on guard. Like Alya said, she didn’t have just _any_ criminal in her house.

She was thankful for the additional restrains, in hindsight it was foolish of her to have removed them. Personal feelings didn’t matter on the job, she wouldn’t do the same mistake twice, even if she winced at the sight of the neck collar.

 _It wasn’t right_ , her heart whispered to her, but she knew what he had done to all those people hadn’t been right either.

It had been wrong, Chat Noir was a criminal and now he was paying the price for his sins.

Marinette told herself this over and over, watching him stare almost emptily into a spot, the thick metal collar around his neck dehumanizing him and making him look like a feral animal robbed of its freedom.

She hardened her heart when he briefly glanced at her, his menacing, green eyes reminded her of her nightmare a few days ago.

Marinette slammed the front door shut and locked it, the guns holstered to her reassuring her.

* * *

 

The two guards finally left with the woman and he exhaled heavily, the heavy tension that had seeped into every pore of his body finally leaving.

All eyes were gone, for now. He knew the woman wasn’t a fool, she would send for two other officers as soon as she reached the precinct.

Chat Noir stood to his full height, the heavy chains around his wrists, neck and feet made him feel heavier than he was but he would have to bear with them for a while longer. He would need to look for exits.

The French windows were double locked, from outside and inside, one of the guards must’ve done it. Without his suit and his hands restrained, it was impossible to break through.

He walked towards the small storage room opposite of the woman’s bedroom, eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness and trying to find something to rip the cloth binding his wrists.

Nothing.

Most items were harmless, heavier things he could use were too large to handle without free hands.

He stopped in front of the bedroom door, sighing and rolling his shoulders. The blond leaned forward and pressed his bound hands down on the doorknob.

It didn’t budge.

He cursed under his breath, accidentally throwing one leg forward and making him slam into the door, rustling it but not breaking the lock. He groaned in pain, turning so his back was leaning into the smooth surface, biting his lip at the sharp pain in his skull and body, still healing from the injuries.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember how long it’s been since his capture.

A week.

Not even a full week.

His men would still be in hiding, they wouldn’t start looking for him until at least a month passed until police activity died down.

He leaned his head back and sighed, feeling the stress feeding off his aggravation. He had to go back to his men, rival gangs would jump at the opportunity of Paris’ number one criminal in chains and unable to defend his group.

He had capable men, women who could take down opponents twice their size, but in the long run, networks better equipped than most government bodies, but people were lost  without a leader.

He pushed himself off the door, silently vowing to bide his time until another opportunity arose to escape. He couldn’t underestimate the woman anymore, she proved a worthy opponent. He was glad his head was so thick and body well acquainted from many battles, those blows she dealt him could’ve incapacitated most others.

Chat Noir allowed a small smirk to grace his lips.

She _would_ look good among his ranks.

* * *

 

“Lieutenant Dupaincheng?” Marinette lifted her head tiredly, eyes blinking up at dark blue tipped hair.

“Yes, Colonel Couffaine?” she sat up straighter, willing her tiredness to go away.

Luka watched her carefully, noting the tired sag of her shoulders, “You look tired. Is the criminal giving you trouble?”

Thinking back onto their small ordeal with breakfast, Marinette wrinkled her nose, “No, he’s… behaved.” She remembered back to the infirmary, when Luka came in, “Could we speak in private?”

He gestured towards his office, “Of course.”   

 Bracing herself, Marinette followed Luka towards his office, feeling eyes on her back but ignoring them, smiling when he opened the door for her.

She was glad the blinds were already pulled down, she didn’t like prying eyes, especially not if the information Luka would give her was possibly personal.

The tall man casually leaned against the wall, waiting expectantly, “You wanted to talk, Marinette?” his tone was softer, more comfortable with them alone.

Marinette bit her lip, thinking back on the harsh words Luka had uttered towards Chat Noir, “The other day…when Chat Noir was released from the infirmary,” recognition dawned in his eyes but otherwise there was no reaction, “It looked like you…have met him before.” Marinette had to choose her words carefully, she didn’t want to offend him.

There was a long minute of silence before Luka rubbed the back of his neck, his voice quiet but even, “You…could say that.” Something hardened in his normally kind blue eyes, “We met briefly, back when I used to be in the marine corps. I thought he was in the military too, since his skills were on par with my own training after he got into a brawl with one of my friends in the corp. As it turned out, he’d been building his criminal followings, not only petty thieves but skilled fighters, murderers, people with little regard to life.” His face scrunched in worry, “I don’t know what he did before, but he’d been on the streets a while when we met. I didn’t know of his criminal background, until I heard it on the news. After finishing my military service, I ended up being the one tracking him for years.”

Marinette swallowed, fingers twitching, “So you…you weren’t friends or the like?” she felt oddly nervous even asking, to think someone like Luka could have criminal acquaintances.

The man snorted in amusement, “More like a cat and dog, though he insists on calling me a ‘snake’.” He smirked until the smile fell when his eyes settled on Marinette, “Always be on guard with him, he’ll use every chance he gets to stab you in the back. Don’t forget that Marinette. It’s…not safe to be involved with him.”

The young lieutenant nodded, trying to wrap her head around the fact Chat Noir could possibly have military training, which made his earlier words somewhat logical. She had thought he was possibly overconfident with his skills, but the fact he managed to nearly overpower her, _handcuffed_ , showed he was not to be trifled with.

It may go against her personal morals to keep his neck and feet chained, but in her line of work, it was sometimes required.

Most of the time, those who wear those chains aren’t human anymore.

She thought the same of Chat Noir.

* * *

 

Marinette exhaled loudly once she stretched in front of the precinct, Alya watching her with an amused smile, “Tired?”

She rubbed her back, “Not really…I mean, maybe just a little.”

The reporter hummed as they began to walk towards their cars, “Wouldn’t surprise me, you sleep with the devil in your house, after all.”

The dark-haired woman shrugged half-heartedly, “He’s not…” she bit her lip, “Can’t argue there.”

Alya turned to her best friend just before she could take out her car keys, “Just remember, this is your _job_ , girl, not your _life_. If he tries anything funny again, throw him in the damn cell. I don’t want to see you laying on that bed in the infirmary again, okay?”

“Alya, I _know_. Don’t worry, he’s as restrained as he could be. The only thing he lacks is a muzzle.” She noticed the look on the reporter’s face, “ _No_ , Alya.”

The curvaceous reporter sighed in exasperation, “ _Fine_ , fine…but if he _does_ do something-“

Marinette rolled her eyes, “- _then_ you can buy a muzzle.”

“-Then I _will_ buy a muzzle.” Alya repeated, both women shaking their heads and laughing at their silliness.

They bid each-other goodbye, Marinette opening her car and getting in, buckling up and checking her phone before she drove off.

A message from Luka.

_“Hey, I know you’re off to home but just a reminder – be careful, okay? I was really worried when you were in the infirmary.” 14:40pm_

Marinette smiled, feeling warmth rush through her before she typed back a reply, “ _That’s really sweet of you Luka, but I’m fine, I promise. I’ll be more careful from now on, so stop worrying so much.”_

She hit send and not even a full two minutes later did a reply come back.

“ _You know I can’t help but worry, especially if it’s you, Ma-Ma-Marinette.” 14.41pm_

Marinette covered her face, feelings of annoyance and fondness waging a war within her, before she furiously typed a reply.

_Send._

* * *

 

Luka accepted the new stack of documents from his colleague, thanking the man for his hard work before his phone beeped with Marinette’s ringtone.

A new message.

His heart fluttered when he read it.

“ _You’ll never let me live that down will you? Well, guess we’re even then, because I always worry about you.”_

He ran a hand down his face, trying to stop his heart from making somersaults.

This adorable woman was going to be the death of him.

* * *

 

Marinette had hummed the entire drive towards home, humming a senseless tune to pass the time, until finally her apartment came into view.

When she entered the parking space, she had a weird inkling feeling. As if something had happened.

Checking her guns again, Marinette exited her car, locking it and walking towards the door.

She stopped, carefully looking at the lock.

There were supposed to be two guards from the police here, but she couldn’t see them anywhere. The lock didn’t seem picked, there were no scratches or any other traces of a violent entry.

She took a deep breath and unlocked her door, keeping one hand resting above her gun.

Two pairs of shoes were in front of her door and her eyes narrowed.

Wait…

Those shoes seemed familiar…

“Welcome home, Marinette.” A sweet voice called from the living room and Marinette’s eyes flew open.

No, it couldn’t be-

Marinette dropped her bag in the hallway and kicked off her shoes quickly, rushing towards the living room.

Chat Noir was still sitting where she’d left him, on the couch, only now his posture was much more rigid, as straight as an arrow. The fake black cat ears were drawn back flat against his messy blond hair, lips curled into a snarl and eyes narrowed in a glare Marinette was glad wasn’t directed at her.

It was directed at the other two people in the room.

The redhaired woman smiled calmly, reassuringly when she looked at the dumbstruck lieutenant, “Hi Marinette, I’m sorry for dropping by so unannounced, we heard Chat Noir was here.”

The dark haired male next to the woman smirked, green eyes an even brighter color than those of Chat Noir, almost glowing, “We heard a little kitten was here all alone.”

Chat Noir growled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :3 I hope you liked this chapter! Any suggestions for improvement/thoughts on the chapter?


	4. Chapter 4

The dark haired male smirked, smoothly standing up and walking over to the chained blond, a dark grin stretching his lips, “You gotta be more careful, this guy’s gotta be locked up.”

Chat Noir snarled, “You damn-“ he suddenly froze, not moving a single muscle when the man before him moved.

He had been so quick to act, the boot firmly slammed between his spread legs against the couch forcing Chat Noir to still.

The man smiled, leaning down to muster him from above, “-With a leash on too.” Both males stared each-other down, one glaring heatedly, the other growling and struggling against his cuffs, muscles tensing to leap at the other man’s throat.

Plagg leaned down ominously, staring at the younger man intensely, “Listen up kid, if you dare lay one more finger against her I’ll personally turn you into swiss cheese.” Marinette wanted to intervene, he was still her suspect after all, but Tikki calmly shook her head, “Understood, kitty?”

Chat Noir didn’t like being bossed around, much less from _him_ , “If you know what’s good for you _jackass_ , you’ll watch your tongue with me, I’m not one of your petty criminals.” The blond lifted his head, holding it high in dignity.

Plagg snorted, roughly grabbing the unruly blond tresses and abruptly pulling him down, body lurching forward to bend awkwardly at the waist, a sharp hiss passed through the criminal’s clenched teeth, hands fighting to break his restraints.

This time, Marinette pushed passed Tikki and firmly settled her hand on Plagg’s forearm, “Plagg, I’d appreciate it if you leave my suspect in one piece.” The older man looked down at her, not in malice but curiosity, “ _Please._ ”

When Tikki herself nodded, Plagg roughly let Chat Noir go, the criminal immediately shooting up to his feet, eyes ablaze and teeth bared like an animal, looking for a fight.

It was only Marinette’s body preventing him from adding onto his already high body count, “Calm down!” she struggled against his brute strength and greater weight, feet sliding across the floor before she firmly planted them down and pushed against the man’s shoulder and chest.

He finally looked down at her, eyes narrowed in undulated fury, “Quit trying to stop me, I’ll fucking-“

“No, you _won’t_!” Marinette’s raised voice surprisingly caused him to stop struggling against her, if only for the moment, her voice softened and lowered, so only he could hear, “I’m sorry.”

That seemed to stun him enough to stop his advances, shooting a dark look at the smirking man standing beside the red-haired woman. Chat Noir staggered back to sit on the couch, Marinette filing the odd, awkward way he repositioned his legs for later.

Tikki glared admonishingly at her partner, “Plagg, that was a bit too much.”

The man rolled his eyes, taking a small piece of camembert from his jacket pocket and plopping it in his mouth.

Tikki sighed, “I’m sorry Marinette, we didn’t come here to cause trouble.”

A snort.

Tikki slammed her heel on Plagg’s boot, not enough to injure, but enough to make him shut up.

He did.

“As I said, we heard nobody came to keep watch here, so Plagg and I volunteered until you returned.”

Marinette rose an eyebrow, “You won’t stay here all day like everyone else?”

The older woman smiled, shaking her head, “We used to train together in self-defence, I’m confident you can handle him if you keep your guard up. Besides, with the added restraints, he poses a less significant threat.” Her eyes briefly swayed to Chat Noir, before they returned to Marinette, “I trust what you’re doing Marinette. We’ll come by tomorrow with news regarding the Fox.”

Chat Noir froze on the couch, “ _The Fox? They got a lead? How?”_ he noticed how the man hadn’t stopped keeping an eye on him since, “ _No, wait, this is a trick. They’re trying to trick me. They’re aware in what relationship I stand to Fox. They want to squeeze me for more information.”_ He set his jaw, eyes fearlessly meeting Plagg’s from across the room.

_Bastard._

Marinette blinked, the name familiar, “Fox- you don’t mean-“

Tikki looked at her meaningfully, squeezing her shoulder, “Mhm, let’s clear this up tomorrow.” Tikki offered a bright smile, but Marinette knew better.

Getting a lead on a criminal organization as big as _the Fox_ was almost impossible. They’re second only to Chat Noir’s own gang, dealing with hallucinogens and other drugs in Italy and now France.

Marinette nodded, leading them outside to her door.

Plagg stopped before her, motioning towards the living room, “Keep your guard up, pigtails.” He waved goodbye and Marinette nodded, waving both adults goodbye before finally closing and locking her door.

She was _done_ with guests for today.

Marinette ran a hand down her face, nearly tripping over her own feet before she crossed the threshold to the living room.

She was thankful Chat Noir had been too deep in thought to notice her slip-up. At least she preserved her dignity as an authority figure.

A feeling of guilt wedged itself into her heart, despite being a high ranked criminal, Chat Noir just looked like a caged animal.

Still, she was a police officer, an upholder of laws, laws he broke without remorse, many times over.

Now that she stood in the living room like this, it was quiet again and Marinette moved towards the connected kitchen to cut up some fruits and make herself coffee, the stress of the day already putting a toll on her nerves.

Chat Noir’s quiet voice made her pause in her rummaging for a knife, “Why did you apologize?”

The lieutenant faltered, before she started washing and cutting up apples, “For Plagg’s behavior, he shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

She heard a snort, “Like you care. I’m nothing but a _murderer,_ after all.”

The rhythmic sounds of the knife hitting the board stopped as Marinette’s hand froze in midair.

How had he known what she’d uttered back then in the night? Hadn’t he been asleep? Hadn’t that been…a nightmare?

Almost instinctively, Marinette gingerly touched her side, only feeling the bandage but no deep claw marks.

It had been a nightmare, he couldn’t possibly-

“You talked in your sleep and I have good hearing.” Her tense body relaxed. She hadn’t known she talked in her sleep, that was new. She didn’t remember her parents ever telling her that when she was young, at least.

“Yes, well, you _are_ the main suspect for a number of serious crimes.” She didn’t know why she should feel guilty, it was the truth, he knew it, she knew it, they both knew it.

Chat Noir fell quiet again and Marinette tried to focus on cutting the apples, before reaching for grapes she stopped, “Do you like to eat red grapes?”

For a few seconds, the room was silent until a quiet answer came, “I don’t dislike them.” Marinette nodded to herself, adding them to the medium-sized bowl.

She threw away the waste into the trash and carried the bowl over to the couch, instead of going away like Chat Noir thought, she sat down on the couch on the opposite end from him, placing the bowl in the middle.

He arched an eyebrow curiously, “Oh, right.” Marinette suddenly scooted closer on the soft furniture, closer to him, which made him instinctively tense up, ready for a fight, “I just want to remove your neck brace.” The metal was thick, surely very uncomfortable if the way he sometimes craned his neck was any indication.

Chat Noir scoffed, but reluctantly held still when he saw her getting the small key for it out, he turned his head away, tolerating her small fingers fiddling with the metal and occasionally touching the warm skin of his neck.

He jumped and hissed when there was sudden pressure on his leg, his whole body twisted to move away from the woman removing the neck chain, “I knew it.”

The blond stilled, gritting his teeth at the pain in his leg, wishing he could throttle her, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Hands off!” the hiss sounded like it came from a real, feral cat and Marinette frowned at how defensive he seemed. The only thing missing was the fur standing on end.

Her expression hardened, “I was right, you _are_ injured.” She traced his face, scrunched up in anger and discomfort, noting the fading scratch on the side of his forehead and faint redness on his chin from their fight, “Did I cause it on Monday when you attacked me?”

Had Marinette been a rookie, she would’ve fell for the intense stare he bestowed her with and the way he seemingly effortlessly supplied the answer, “Yes.”

Bluebell eyes narrowed, “I don’t believe you.” His lips formed into a thin line, “I don’t remember striking your legs when we fought.”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, “You threw me into a _damn TV_ , woman!^On a _table_!”

“Your _torso_ hit the TV, your legs should’ve been fine. The doctor also didn’t write down any injuries or blunt trauma to your legs.” The ticked off hiss coming from the criminal only further cemented her suspicions, “Tell me how you got it.”

“What do you care? I’m a criminal.”

“You’re also a human with rights. It’s my job to also keep you safe until you get your punishment by the end of your investigation. Now tell me why you’re limping.” The fury in her eyes increased when the cat remained tight lipped.

She climbed with both legs on the couch, one hand balanced on the couch while other reached for him, Chat Noir immediately drew back in response, “What in-“

Marinette made a move to grab for his legs until he moved them away and bared his teeth at her, “Get the hell-“

“If you won’t tell me I’ll look  at your injury myself!” the threat seemed strong, but Chat Noir knew better.

“Tch, don’t hold me for a fool, you wouldn’t dare look at my legs yourself. You need another male officer present so I can’t accuse you of sexual harassment.” She was surprised he knew the law so well, then again, perhaps he broke it so many times he learned it by heart.

Marinette didn’t mean to play that card, she despised it when other morally corrupt officers did, but extreme circumstances forced extreme measures, “I can do it by force.”

They held each-other at a stalemate, Chat Noir’s torso poised in the front, legs farther away from the cop and Marinette’s hands on the soft material of her couch, eyes interlocked with furious green.

“Then you’re nothing better than the pigs working under or on top of you, _cop_.” The venomous words were practically spat out at her and Marinette filed another detail about him away for later references.

Marinette moved first, but instead of forward she moved back, sliding her feet off the couch and placing the bowl back in the middle, throwing the neck cuff away to the side and turning on the TV.

The criminal blinked, still not moving, suspicious of her next actions.

Instead, Marinette remained calm, forcing her body to relax, eyes locked on the screen while she plucked a sliced apple from the bowl.

Chat Noir tensed when she gently nudged the bowl in his direction, he snorted in response.

She pressed her lips together and picked a up an apple slice, stretching her arm towards his face. His gaze narrowed threateningly. She sighed, “Look, I’m sorry I can’t undo your restraints, I know this is humiliating but I want to spare you the shame of having to eat out of a bowl like an animal.” The fierce blue was gone and replaced by a kinder gaze, but still guarded.

The man huffed, biting down on the slice and taking it from her offering fingers, swallowing it and munching on it himself. It was only after the third slice that he spoke up quietly after swallowing down the fruit, “…Thanks.”

She tried to hide it, but a tiny smile appeared on her lips for the briefest of seconds, “You’re welcome.”

They sat like that in silence, watching some sitcom on TV, she occasionally offering him fruit until he, surprisingly, _politely_ declined any more.

It was only after three hours that she fell asleep, curled up on the other end of the couch, some nature documentary running in the background.

Chat Noir watched her warily, experimentally kicking the table lightly to see if she would jump.

She didn’t.

He couldn’t see her eyes moving beneath her closed eyelids either, which meant she was truly asleep.

He carefully moved on the couch with all the grace of his namesake, poised precariously over her sleeping form. Now was a good time as any to try and escape, but he was still bound and had no geographic knowledge of his terrain, he would be like a fish out of water until he got more information on his surroundings.

His eyes raked over her body, trying to discern where she could’ve hidden the keys to his locks.

They could be anywhere on her police uniform, he couldn’t make out any suspicious key-like shapes in any of her pockets, the ones on her waist was her spare house key, as he’d memorized them.

She moved and he tensed, ready to bolt to his original spot, but she was just readjusting, hips wiggling until she got more comfortable.

If she hadn’t worn that uniform he would almost call the action somewhat cute.

He eyes zeroed in on the badge stuck to her chest.

_Or not._

He briefly glanced at her hips, shaking his head and moving back to his original position.

He huffed in annoyance, eyes looking over her figure before he rolled his eyes in frustration and stubbornly looked to the other side, glaring at the clock.

And it was only 2:00pm.

Fucking great.

* * *

 

Marinette had been dreaming very nicely, until the sweet dream of kind blue eyes had been interrupted by the alarming nuisance of her phone blaring loudly through the whole apartment.

She woke up hastily, nearly falling off the couch in her startled state.

She heard a snort next to her but she ignored it in favor of answering her phone, “Lieutenant Dupain-Cheng, who am I speaking to?” weeks of practicing answering her phone like that had payed of, she could do it even while half-asleep.

Thankfully, it was only Alya.

“ _Girl! Where were you?! Do you know how worried I was?! I was about to call Nino and head over to your apartment to see if you’re still in one piece! Didn’t you see all the messages I sent you?!”_ Alya’s distressed voice rang in her ears worse than a school bell, immediately destroying any sleepiness she still had.

“I’m sorry Alya, I’m perfectly fine. I was-“ and suddenly, Marinette remembered her ‘guest’.

He was innocently sitting on his side, eyes locked on the TV until they swirled to hers when he sensed her stare. He looked oddly…behaved.

“…I fell asleep. Sorry, I didn’t see your messages.” Marinette smoothed down her hair, relieved to feel her pigtails were still neat. It was a hassle to always do them, no matter how practiced she was.

There was a pause, before Alya spoke again, tone calmer but full of wariness, “ _You fell asleep? Where is the criminal?! Go and check up on him to see if he destroyed your living room! Remember when I took home that stray cat once? The little furball destroyed almost everything and peed on everything!”_ Marinette tried hard to force the image of the man beside her peeing everywhere on her furniture out of her mind, least she started laughing.

“Right, well, he’s here beside me and my living room is still in tact Alya.” She sounded tired, Chat Noir deduced conversations of this nature or another happened often between them.

 _“So, the reporter was her friend?”_ Chat Noir discreetly watched the expressions play on her face from the corner of his eye, while pretending to watch the cooking show on TV.

Seriously, _who_ ruined perfectly good croissants by pouring strawberry sauce over them?

“ _Wait, hold the phone! You mean, YOU fell asleep and he’s beside you?! YOU FELL ASLEEP BESIDE A CRIMINAL! MARI-“_

Marinette made a shushing motion with her fingers despite her friend not seeing it, “Shh! Alya! Lower your voice, people could be listening in!”

“ _Fuck the people! I’m alone in my office enjoying a sandwich! Listen girl, I know women in magazines called him handsome and all, but he’s still a criminal! He’s the forbidden fruit, Marinette! DON’T BITE THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT!”_ Marinette briefly pulled the phone away from her ear so her eardrums didn’t shatter, rolling her eyes at her friend’s dramatics.

Reporters.

Chat Noir’s ears perked up in mild interest.

Did he hear forbidden fruit?

“Alya, calm down. He’s restrained and…still injured, so I’m fine and unscathed.” Marinette schooled her features to not give away too much of their conversation to the male beside her, aware he was watching her, “ I’ll call you later, okay? Everything’s fine on my end, tell Luka I’ll report to him in the evening.”

When Alya agreed, Marinette bid her one last goodbye before she ended the conversation.

 “That thing’s worse than a firefighter’s alarm.” The dry comment made her snort softly, setting her phone aside.

Silence settled over them, until Marinette slowly and calmly turned towards him as to not startle the criminal, “Will you tell me how your leg got injured?” her voice was quiet, not the commanding, authoritative voice from earlier.

She was asking, not _commanding_.

He relaxed slightly, his shoulders lowered but his gaze was still guarded, “If you tell me why you fell asleep, fully aware I could’ve done something?” he regarded her curiously, trying to read her emotions.

He didn’t think she was such a fool as to carelessly fall asleep beside criminals, but he also couldn’t figure out why she did.

She replied without missing a beat, gaze steady on his, “I figured you wouldn’t attack me. You also didn’t attack me in my sleep.” The answer stunned him and he quickly masked his surprise.

He released a long drawn out sigh, looking down at his feet, “Why?”

She seemed to know what he was asking, “…I’ve sent many criminals to jail, as I believe you’re one of those too.” A disbelieving snort, “But unlike them, you didn’t take advantage of me sleeping to attack me. You also didn’t fight as dirty as some other thugs I dealt with before. You didn’t grab me indecently nor fall for my trick, so I guessed you still had some dignity and respect despite all the crimes you’ve committed.” She sighed, looking at him, “Your turn, Chat Noir.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, before lifting his head to look at the cop before him, “You’re a nuisance, lieutenant.” He saw she didn’t let herself get phased at all by his comment, so he caved in, “One of your buddies, the ones keeping a watch on me in the infirmary, got bored.”

An icy shower ran down Marinette’s spine, not believing what she heard, “…What?”

Chat Noir smiled ruefully, patting his leg, “Let’s just say they got a bit touchy-feely, that’s all.” The silent fury in his eyes told her if it hadn’t been for the chains on him, he’d been _touchy-feely_ with those officers too.

“How bad?” Marinette suddenly stood up, Chat Noir tensing instinctively when she rushed out of the living room, turning on the lights in what he saw was the bathroom.

“A sprained ankle and a few bruises, nothing they won’t get excused for.” His eyes flew open when her next words were as cutting as the scissors she had come back with.

“Don’t _talk_ like that!” absolute fury and indignation shone so brightly in her eyes, he thought they would light up in a blue flame, “I won’t let them get away with this, I’ll make sure they’re punished for what they’ve done. Criminal or not, torturing people is wrong.” He eyed the rolled up compress gauze, a small dark green plastic container and another roll of gauze in her hands, along with the scissors she placed on the floor.

He tensed when her hand reached for his leg, but she didn’t touch him, she settled on the ground on her knees and asked, “May I? I’ll only roll up your pants.”

He was on two battlefronts, at least that’s how the inner conflict within himself felt like now. He didn’t like the thought of her touching him, yet she showed she posed no harm, deliberately using a softer tone, making herself smaller and asking for permission.

He bit the inside of his cheek, nodding his consent.

Marinette sighed and gingerly grabbed the material of the dark pants, expertly and quickly rolling them up to reveal a tan, lean leg.

She immediately saw the damage.

The ankle was swollen and bruised, a bluish red, the muscle along the calf also looked slightly bruised.

Biting her lip in sympathy and pity, Marinette gingerly ran her fingers along the swelling, trying to feel if there was worse damage.

A sharp warning hiss reached her ears and she eased off the pressure, “Sorry.” Before she grabbed the – _was that an elastic ankle brace?_

At his bewildered look, Marinette smiled, “You’d be surprised how often cops sprain their ankles when chasing down criminals or doing boring paperwork in the office. You either run after a thug or rush towards the coffee machine.” A snort, she thought of amusement, sounded after her comment.

She breathed, “Don’t kick me for this, this will hurt.” He nodded, bracing himself.

She worked quickly and efficiently, putting the ankle brace on him, making sure it sat properly before wrapping his calf for safe measure. He immediately felt a slightly ticklish sensation on his calf and ankle, until he noticed she put what he assumed was ointment on the gauze and brace before wrapping the injury.

She quickly rolled down his pants leg, looking over at his other one, “Anywhere else?”

He quickly shook his head, “No.” there was a minute of silence as she gathered the things off the floor before he swallowed, “Thank you.” It felt slightly easier saying the words, even if she was a cop, she helped ease off some of his discomfort. Even a street cat like him knew to be grateful, at least a little.

Marinette nearly dropped the scissors, not expecting the gratitude, especially not in a tone softer than a hiss or a snarl, “You’re welcome.”

She left quickly to the bathroom and Chat Noir moved his ankle, biting his lip at the pain, but the brace and ointment made it better.

Who knew cops could be so nice.

The woman returned, meeting his eyes, “Can you describe them?”

He thought for a moment if he should, then a grin stretched his lips and a dark glint shone in his eyes, “Like the back of my hand.”

In a rare moment of allowing emotions in front of criminals, Marinette smiled back.

She usually didn’t support violence, but in this case, she’ll enjoy it, just a little.

She glanced at the clock, it was close to six pm. Had she slept a full _fours_ hours?!

Marinette shook her head, thinking to turn in to bed earlier so she didn’t fall asleep next to Chat Noir again.

While she felt a bit more reassured that he wouldn’t – and partly couldn’t – attack her in her sleep, she still didn’t feel very comfortable falling asleep in his immediate presence. It may be her instincts as a cop to a criminal or more simpler – a woman alone with a male stranger.

She didn’t ponder long on it, taking her gun holsters and adjusting them on her body, tucking the third one on the holster around her hips before she checked if she had everything.

She noticed Chat Noir watching her, but didn’t let herself become unfocused, “I’ll be gone for an hour or two.” again, their eyes met, “Don’t cause trouble or you will regret it.”

Feeling slightly more at ease with the now bearable amount of pain he had to deal with, Chat Noir offered the woman a small smirk, “Sad I can’t say the same for you, lieutenant.”

Her rank uttered from his mouth came slightly softer, not the tone dripping with poison, sarcasm, mockery or pure hatred.

He reminded her of an old fairy tale story, where the lion had a thorn stuck to its paw and roared and raged until a little mouse pulled it out, then the lion returned to being kind again.

Something in Marinette’s heart hardened when she glanced at the thick, heavy hand- and foot cuffs chaining Chat Noir. She gave the room one last controlling glance, briefly settling on Chat Noir before she turned around and headed for the small corridor, putting on her shoes and jacket.

She grabbed her keys from the keyhole and opened the door, “ _This isn’t a fairy tale._ ”

Marinette closed her door shut and locked it, setting the deadbolt, “ _And I’m no mouse.”_

* * *

 

Chat Noir tested his foot, noticing the ointment working to improve the pain, the swelling was still there of course, but he didn’t feel as agitated due to the pain anymore.

He glanced at the French windows, remembering the double lock on it, before he settled back against the couch, eyes locked on the TV then on the remote.

Thankfully, the TV was still on.

There was still that cooking show running.

He contemplated trying to manipulate the remote with his teeth or nose or anything to push the buttons, but then noticed the screen zoomed in on the croissants with the blasphemous strawberry sauce on them.

His gaze narrowed suspiciously, eyes locked on it as the chef cut it in half, the camera showing a close up view of the inside.

If Chat Noir’s hands had been free, he would’ve flipped the table.

_Peanut butter._

They mixed it with peanut butter.

Chat Noir took a shaky breath, moving forward and stabbing the remote’s volume button with his nose, ignoring the slight throbbing in favor of listening in to the chef’s explanation as to why on earth one would ruin a perfectly good croissant.

Chat Noir knew it.

That chef would be the next one on his hit list as soon as he got out.

* * *

 

Marinette’s short drive to the precinct finally gave her a sense of calmness and privacy she hadn’t experienced in a whole week, ever since she started housing the criminal in her home. She was constantly watched (at least she had to pretend to prevent making mistakes), couldn’t leave him alone for long periods of time in fear of him trying to escape and due to her own restless paranoia.

She always denied it, but Alya was right. Marinette was practically married to her job, she had little social contacts outside of work, except some old classmates, them being people she also worked with.

Alya, Marc, Kim, Ivan, Alix on occasion, Juleka who worked in the pathology sector, occasionally Rose who visited from her work in the flower shop. Luka, her superior.

She often thought of cases, the difficult ones who lasted for a long time, when she got home, it was the baggage that came with being a cop directly working in the front lines. Office work had been an option, but Marinette wasn’t one to stay cooped up in a room for too long. Even if she did deal with society’s lowest scum, she got out and did something, actively keeping the people around her safe.

That thought alone made her sleep a bit easier.

Much too quick to her liking, Marinette was already in front of the police department. She parked her car quickly, thankfully the row was near to empty, her colleagues patrolling the city by now.

She was right, the office was almost completely deserted, except for Luka, who was running a hand down his face and refilling what looked like his fourth cup of coffee. He looked more exhausted than she remembered seeing him yesterday.

He greeted her with a nod and a smile, taking a sip of his coffee, “Hey Ma-Ma-Marinette.”

She huffed in mock annoyance, he still used her awkward stuttering phase as a teenager to tease her, even now, “Hey, you seem like this is your fourth cup.” She motioned towards the hot coffee and Luka shrugged.

His dress shirt was unbuttoned by the first two buttons, showing a minimum glimpse of a defined collarbone and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

This was Luka Couffaine in the night shifts, a bit messier, a bit sleepier, a bit more laidback. He was generally a more relaxed superior, but at night shifts, due to not many people still working so late, he loosened up a bit more. “How’s our pussycat doing? He behaving well?”

Marinette sighed, choosing not to mention the little confrontation in the living room, instead she had another matter to address, “Did you know Tikki and Plagg would visit me? While Chat Noir was alone?” she rose an eyebrow. Usually, any and all actions regarding trained employees of the police force had to be authorized by him before they can be executed.

Luka took a sip of his coffee, “They came to me in the morning, said something about the criminal not being under watch, so I sent them over.” He paused, glancing at her, “Wait, did they go inside your apartment?” he seemed bewildered.

Marinette crossed her arms, leaning against one of the empty desks, “I don’t know how, maybe Tikki still has a spare key or Plagg picked the lock, which by the way he should stop doing, but Plagg antagonized Chat Noir a bit too much today.” She remembered the way both males had started growling and hissing at each-other like real territorial cats. It had been odd to witness.

Luka ran a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to them tomorrow, I didn’t expect them to go in.” he sighed, fiddling with the guitar pick in his other hand absentmindedly. It was a thing he did when trying to calm down or organize his thoughts.

Marinette cleared her throat, catching his attention, “Also…there are two police officers I would like to report.”

His brow arched, “Report? That’s rare, you usually bring them in here yourself.”

Marinette’s gaze was serious as she looked at him, “It’s not about me, but about Chat Noir.” Almost immediately the concern vanished from his blue eyes like it got swept away by the wind.

“…I see. What for?” he took another sip of his coffee, watching her intently.

“They physically mistreated him while he was recuperating in the infirmary. I’ve seen it myself, his right leg sustained a second degree ankle sprain and hematomas along his calf. He’s limping.” Her gaze hardened imperceptibly, fury from before mountain again, “We can’t let this slide.”

The man nodded, “Of course not, as much as I rather throw him in the cell, we still have the responsibility of not misusing our authority. Can he offer a description of the two officers?” Luka already reached for pen and paper, discarding his coffee to jot the information down to settle tomorrow.

  Marinette smiled, echoing Chat Noir’s words, “Like the back of his hand.”

Luka rose an eyebrow at the phrase but scribbled the basic information down, folding it and putting it in the pocket of his dress shirt to not forget it.

He observed her for a while, “He’s still…restrained?” he disliked the word ‘chained’, then again, another word seemed incorrect in Chat Noir’s case. He was chained up like an animal.

Marinette bit her bottom lip, “I only removed his neck cuff, the thing was uncomfortable, he had red imprints on it along his neck, but I left the chains around his hands and feet, just in case.”

Luka sighed in relief, “Good. Please don’t remove them, he’s dangerous, Marinette.” His expression softened, “Remember what I told you, I don’t want to see you in that infirmary again.”

Marinette touched her side absentmindedly, the pain still there, “Still hurting?”

She smiled at Luka, “A bit, it’s fine if I don’t apply pressure on it.”

He frowned, “I can’t believe I’m saying this to a grown woman, but visit the doctor every once and a while. You need to get it checked up. That’s an order.” He narrowed his eyes over the rim of his cup, sipping the sweet dark liquid of his coffee.

Marinette playfully rolled her eyes, “You’re getting better with words lately, you know.”

Luka snorted softly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, I can’t let my guitar speak for me during work.” He shrugged, fiddling with the pick again, “Besides, the job requires it. I can’t deal with stubborn colleagues or I can’t shut off criminals by singing them ballads.”

Marinette giggled, “Who knows, maybe Chat Noir will even meowl if you play a tune.”

Luka chuckled, finding the notion of the feline themed criminal meowling to his guitar playing, in the middle of the night, disturbing his neighbors to be a hilarious thought, “ On second thought, that could be part of his punishment.” They chuckled at their little banter.

“Speaking of the devil, he’s…behaving okay?” Luka asked her again, repeating his question from earlier.

Marinette sighed at his worry, “Yes, mom, he’s fine.” He snorted at her, “You’re a worrywart, you know? I’ll be fine, I’m a cop too.” She pointed at her badge and Luka sighed.

“I know, I’m just…worried.” Her expression softened, lips turning up into a genuine smile.

“Yeah…I know.” They let the comfortable silence envelop them, alone in the precinct.

For now, Marinette felt safe and finally like she could breathe more easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you liked this chapter! :)


	5. Chapter 5

 

“Hey, can’t we…put a muzzle on him or something?” Kim adjusted his collar for the sixth time that hour, shifting from foot to foot, “He’s giving me the creeps, man.”

Ivan sighed next to him, as still as a statue and staring straight ahead, “Don’t look him in the eye Kim, he’s a criminal.”

“Does that mean he could hypnotize me?! He’s still creepy! Look at him!” Kim straightened his back, hands wiggling impatiently behind his back.

Ivan risked a quick glance towards the blond man sitting on the couch, bright flashes of the TV bathing his form in light here and there.

Chat Noir’s gaze was formidable, as if glaring daggers straight at them, his pupils almost resembled a feline’s, at least that’s what it looked like to their sleep deprived minds.

Did he even… _move_ in the past hour?

“ _Ugh,_ when will Nette get back? Didn’t she just have to report to Luka quickly?” Kim scratched the back of his neck, warily stealing glances at Chat Noir.

Ivan checked his watch.

_8:00pm_

Just what person needed two hours to give a verbal report?!

His partner and friend’s annoyed voice interrupted his thoughts, “Well, _‘talking’_ sure takes long!”

Ivan glanced at him curiously and Kim lifted his head, “What?”

“…Why did you say ‘talking’ so weirdly?”

Kim stuck his bottom lip out before scratching his head, “Uh, well…you know what the rumors say, right?” he discreetly nudged the bigger man, grinning innocently.

Ivan rolled his eyes, “If we’d listen to rumors, we’d already be strapped in tight jackets in a white room, idiot.”

Kim shook his head, “No, no, no, no. There are rumors, but…but then there are also _rumors_ , you know?”

Ivan allowed a tiny smile to cross his face, “Oh, like the ones about you and Alix?”

Kim’s horrified expression was met with Ivan’s rare, shit-eating grin, “How _dare you-_ I- well, have I ever! I know you have something going on with Mylene!”

A long stare, “…She is my _wife,_ Chien.”

“Oh, trying to talk ourselves out now, are we?” Kim gave his friend the evil eye while Ivan simply sighed, counting down the minutes in his head, wishing that Marinette was on her way over here before he had to call for reinforcements to keep him from strangling a police officer.

* * *

 

Chat Noir huffed for the umpteenth time since the TV turned on.

What _uncultured swine_ baked croissants without applying beaten eggs on them so they browned evenly in the oven?!

He couldn’t look in the mirror, but he was sure his face was set in a permanent death glare since the ridiculous, apparently ‘educative’ cooking show began.

He hated that cook.

That cook was on his hit-list.

His eyes narrowed when the cook pretended the croissants were delicious to woo the audience.

What an _amapurr!_

His eyes stole a quick glance at the clock, sweeping over the two officers standing vigilant in front of the locked windows.

It was already eight o’clock.

Just what was that woman doing? He thought she would be back soon, he was getting kind of hungry.

He rolled his eyes, he was already letting his guard down too much, letting her _feed_ him, as if he were some pet.

Then again, chained as he was, forced to remain in a cop’s house, he might as well be some sort of pet.

He flexed his bare hands within the restraining cloth they were bound in, missing the feel of the protective leather and reinforced steel normally covering them. He missed his claws, he missed his gear, the wind in his face, the sensation of running along tiled rooftops and walls, away from naïve brady cops.

He sighed, letting his chin briefly rest against his chest, gaze discreetly watching the two bickering cops, the bigger one looking like he wanted to commit murder on the spot if the other one didn’t shut his trap.

Chat Noir smirked in amusement, gaze sweeping over the kitchen.

He had no idea when the lady would be back.

It was late.

He was hungry.

Standing up to his full height, Chat Noir casually walked towards the kitchen table, wincing at the flash of pain shooting up his leg.

Two pairs of eyes were glued to his figure but he ignored them as he reached the fruit bowl.

* * *

 

“…What is he doing?” Ivan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, glued to the moving criminal.

Kim narrowed his eyes, “I don’t know but it seems suspicious.”

Kim rubbed his chin the longer he stared, “Uh…it looks like he’s…getting a snack?” he watched the man go for the fruit bowl, eyes intensely trained on the way he near to effortlessly grabbed the grapes with his teeth on the stem and carrying them over to his previous position on the couch.

Ivan shifted, “He’s restrained, how will he even eat them?” honestly, both Kim and Ivan felt a shot of sympathy, they had no idea when Marinette last fed the guy, if both were honest, she must’ve fed him at one point or another because it wouldn’t be Marinette if she didn’t feed people in her home.

They watched as Chat Noir sat back down on the couch, only this time, he swung his legs, with a bit of difficulty, over it and turned his back on them, “Hey! Now we can’t see anything!”

\--

The criminal bit off one of the grapes, swallowing it easily before grabbing the next one with his teeth and pulling it off its stem.

He would rather be dead than caught trying to eat like a dog, in front of cops no less. The ox and monkey outside didn’t need to see this pitiful display, he still had his pride and self-respect.

Chat Noir huffed through his nose, trying not to fidget around impatiently.

Over two days passed since those assholes injured him and his release from the infirmary, in total, two weeks since his imprisonment. His men would’ve definitely caught wind of it, if not in the news, then through their underground networks. Word traveled fast when a top tier criminal got captured, especially one normally so cautious and nigh to untouchable as Chat Noir.

Still, he was curious about what those two cops that had visited so unceremoniously had meant with having information on The Fox.

Fox, or more commonly known among criminals by their Italian family name, Rossi-Vanetti, while well known, were difficult to catch. Chat Noir himself had tried numerous times, until a long-standing non-aggression pact of sorts was established between them after a ugly heist gone wrong.

The fox didn’t meddle in the cat’s affairs and vice versa.

Chat Noir smiled, “ _I wonder how they got caught, if I perk my ears, I just may hear something.”_ He felt lighter, despite the heavy chains on him.

He hoped Tweedledee and Tweedledum outside were as oblivious as he hoped.

* * *

 

Luka rearranged the papers on his desk, hearing a soft snore coming from outside and he sighed softly.

Standing up, Luka grabbed his wallet and walked out, spotting the sleeping woman slumped on her own desk, face on top of her crossed arms, stacks of papers beneath them, files on her latest case regarding Chat Noir and a couple on the Fox.

The former marine shook his head, quietly walking closer to her. He couldn’t fight off the low chuckle that left him, his jacket looked so big on her, tucked around her shoulders as it was, it shot an old but familiar warmth through his chest.

They’d poured over the files of both Chat Noir and Fox through the whole night, the only thing that made him get some semi-peaceful sleep was the fact that Kim and Ivan were still at Marinette’s, keeping a close eye on the criminal.

He frowned, guilt creeping up his chest for not shooing Marinette off towards home to sleep, but the woman was too stubborn for him sometimes, firmly telling him off when he tried gently coaxing her towards the door, chastising him for disrupting her workflow at four in the morning.

He wondered how she didn’t have large dark circles under her eyes from all the all-nighters she was known to pull over especially difficult cases, like their current ones.

Feeling slightly more confident, either because they were alone or he was operating on only three hours of sleep, Luka leaned down carefully, pulling his jacket closer around Marinette and rubbed her head affectionately, barely refraining from kissing her hair.

His lips were only inches away, but he forced himself to put more distance, lest the soft, sweet smelling scent of her shampoo or the tantalizing warmth she radiated trapped him too deep.

Like he already hadn’t been trapped.

Luka shook his head, grabbing the keys to the precinct and heading out, buttoning up his shirt and fixing his slightly wrinkled sleeves.

Thankfully he had a spare shirt in his office.

* * *

 

It was cold and dark, like some of her nightmares usually started.

Next she would see the victims, victims in the conditions she usually found them in when they were dead and searching for clues on their murderers.

But this time, instead of the victim, a dark silhouette appeared before her.

It was strangely shaped, the head looked weird, two small protruding triangle-like shapes on top of the head and something long and thin hanging from the person’s midsection, like a thicker rope of some kind.

Was that…?

Marinette squinted, taking small steps forward, ‘ _Chat Noir?’_ why was she dreaming about him again? She usually dreamed of victims, or if she did dream of perpetrators, then how she was catching them or how they sat behind bars.

The silhouette moved away from her and Marinette broke into a jog to catch up to it, ‘ _Hey! Wait! Come back here! You’re still under my-!’_

Light slowly seeped through at either sides of the figure and Marinette found her vision finally improving, the dark abyss she found herself in was bathed in light, ‘ _-watch…’_

The figure turned and it was indeed Chat Noir, dressed in the dark leather he usually wore, the cat ears atop his head, the tail-belt hanging from his midsection.

He looked smug, dark grin stretched over his lips to show menacing white teeth, the green in his eyes looked haunting, even his eye shape changed to that of a cats. It was…almost demonic.

The light shone brighter and Marinette shielded her eyes, a sharp cry of pain cut through the silence of her nightmare and her eyes flew open to see what happened.

The scene changed.

Chat Noir was kneeling now, his dark suit gone, his hair was surprisingly combed, he looked…normal. Except the violent trembling of his body, tear marks on his cheeks, his clothes looked well-tailored, but they were rumpled, in disarray, his arms looked bruised, a cut was on his lip and when he looked up at her, Marinette’s heart squeezed like a vice.

Incredibly watery, sad green eyes stared up at her.

_‘I’m sorry.’_

* * *

 

Marinette lunged forward with a sharp intake of breath, papers falling to the floor and hands tightly clutching at the edge of her desk, mind swimming and body wracked with violent shivers.

Sad green eyes were still in her mind’s eyes when hands settled on her shoulders suddenly.

Her body went on autopilot, hands moving to dislodge the ones on her back, before her own were grabbed gently but firmly and kept in place, “Marinette!”

The voice, she knew that voice.

“Marinette! It’s me!” haunted bluebell eyes met concerned aqua ones and Marinette felt her heart sink in relief.

It was Luka.

It was just Luka.

He was holding her wrists, keeping her from performing a defense move and hauling him over her desk and dislocating his arm. He shook her gently, “Marinette, can you hear me? We’re in the precinct, you’re safe.” His voice was low and soothing, her frenzied nerves finally, slowly calming down.

Her lip trembled, “I-I…L-Luka…” the man gathered her into his arms and Marinette gratefully welcomed the warmth that wrapped all around her like a blanket, hands clutching his dress shirt in her hands, the smell of coffee and the faint smell of his cologne helping her slowly come back to reality.

It had just been a nightmare.

She was safe.

Everything was fine.

Luka was here.

 She was safe.

She wound her arms around his waist, clutching at his back and trying to mimic his calm, deep breaths, knowing he was trying to help direct her thoughts.

He was rubbing her back soothingly, whispering sweet nothings and Marinette was reminded of a time where they had been very young, still a bit naïve, she remembered soothing melodies and long talks on his house boat.

She sighed heavily, the breath she expelled took the demons of her nightmare with her and the female allowed her weight to gently sag against the sturdy support of Luka’s body, “Feeling better, little melody?”

She smiled fondly despite her hands still desperately clutching at him, ‘little melody’, she thought he had forgotten all about it prior to joining the marines.

“Mhmm…” Marinette knew they were at the precinct, in their workplace, that this wasn’t workplace-appropriate behavior, but she couldn’t bring herself to care much, at least as long as they were alone like this, “Thanks Luka…” she nuzzled her face against his chest, the tallest place on his body she could reach and sighed again in relief.

The musician smiled, “Want me to play you a song? My guitar’s in the closet.” She completely forgot it he had a spare one right here in the precinct.

Coming back to herself, Marinette gently broke the close hug, running her hands down her face and gently slapping her cheeks, “No…I-I’m fine, thank you Luka. I…needed that.” She took a deep breath and finally felt safe enough to stand on her own two legs.

Luka slowly let go of her elbows once he was convinced she could stand on her own, “You’re welcome, you gave me a scare. Everything alright?” he knew she had nightmares, but this one seemed particularly bad again.

She smiled, a weaker version of her normally bright smiles, “Yes, yes, really I’m fine.” She shook her head for good measure, “Let’s start working again.”

She was about to turn back towards her desk and pick up the discarded papers, until Luka stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, “It’s still early, six to be exact. Work doesn’t officially start until eight, or seven-thirty before some people pop up in here.” Luka smiled, pulling a chair over and sitting down on it, grabbing two paper bags and steaming cups, “So, let’s get some breakfast.”

The warm smile stubbornly pulling at her lips made Luka’s own widen and he unpacked their breakfast, setting aside her paperwork carefully and pushing her hot coffee in her hands.

She sighed, warming her cold hands on the paper cup, smiling at the warmth from the cup and from Luka’s soft smile.

_A few hours later… Plagg & Tikki arriving at the precinct…._

Marinette was working like a machine again, the hearty breakfast and the wonderful morning Luka managed to create for her did wonders on her work ethic and overall mood, even Alya had teasingly commented how Marinette seemed to ‘glow’ oddly in the early hours.

Thank _god_ Luka hadn’t been anywhere in hearing range.

Unfortunately, poor Marc had and the man had promptly stubbed his toe against one of the desks in his stupor, Alya shouting laughing apologies at the blushing report writer and beaming like a fox at a blushing Marinette.

“Alya, would you cut it out? _Nothing happened._ We spent the whole night researching Chat Noir and the Fox case. Besides, we are at _work_!” the sharp tongue lashing didn’t deter the reporter’s wild imagination in the slightest.

The auburn haired woman’s grin was even worse than the Cheshire cat’s, “Pff, as if _work_ stopped people from doing the deed. If it’s Luka, I always thought you were the type to do that.” She winked and Marinette used all her willpower to not swing a punch. Or three.

“The type to do what?” Marinette’s whole back was wracked with shivers when she heard Luka’s voice on her side and she could _feel_ the evil aura rolling off of Alya in waves.

“Hi Luka! I always thought Marinette was the type to-“

“-work until I drop, _right_ , _Alya?_ ” the bluebell death glare directed at her friend made the reporter thankfully shut up, not without a few sneaky giggles behind her hand though.

Luka rose an eyebrow, chuckling as he gave Marinette a side glance, “You’re right about that, considering the night we had.”

Luka’s innocent comment did nothing to curb Alya’s suggestive thoughts, it only fueled the devil’s imagination, “Oh, really? Care to elaborate on that?” Alya already had her recording device out and Marinette promptly pushed her towards the exit.

“Oh, gee, look at the time! Aren’t there any hot news or burning cars you need to go after, reporter Cesaire?!” with a final, rough push, Alya was directed towards the double doors leading out of the precinct.

The devilish grin and wink she shot Marinette suggested their conversation wasn’t over and Marinette dreaded their next meeting in the weekend.

Luka was chuckling when his shorter subordinate and friend came back with puffed up cheeks, “Teasing again?”

The color Marinette’s cheeks took on was similar to a certain blonde woman’s lipstick, “Y-yeah.” She cleared her throat, just like someone else did right next to them.

What was up with people sneaking up on her lately?

Her gaze instantly narrowed when she recognized who it was.

Tikki and Plagg.

Tikki smiled pleasantly, “Good morning you two.” She nodded respectfully at Luka and gave a friendly wave at Marinette.

Marinette’s expression softened towards her former mentor but hardened at the grumpy man next to her, “Morning.”

Plagg, of course, noticed her disposition towards him, “Still angry, little kitten?” he grinned, but it held no real bite or ill intent.

Marinette frowned, “You went too far, you know.” Her arms were crossed resolutely, and the older man sighed.

“Sorry about that, had to reign in the feral cat, so he didn’t cause trouble.”

A bit of a scalding  retort was on the tip of Marinette’s tongue, but Luka took the lead instead, “Thank you for coming you two, we already talked on the phone. Also concerning your behavior during your guard duty at Lieut. Dupaincheng’s apartment.” His own glare was directed primarily towards the dark-haired man.

Tikki’s voice was soft and melodious when she spoke, “Yes, I apologize for that again. We entered Marinette’s house without authorization or any emergency.” She elbowed Plagg softly and the man cleared his throat.

“…Yeah…” another harsher elbow, “Sorry.” Plagg felt his ribs hurt after the third blow, “Apologies for mistreating the criminal, sir.” He rubbed his side, giving Tikki a glare.

Luka sighed, glancing at Marinette wordlessly.

“Apologies accepted, please don’t do that again.” She knew she could trust Tikki, she hoped the woman would stop Plagg the next time he let loose like that again.

“Moving on,” Luka motioned for them to follow him, heading for his office, “You said you had more information concerning the Fox.” Once the blinds were pulled down and the door was locked, Tikki produced a folder from the inside of her jacket.

“Yes, information about their last sightings in France and recent activity in Italy.” Tikki’s sweet tone remained soft but gained a professional edge all abiders of the law took on when speaking to authority.

She had been in that business for quiet a while, despite being off duty ‘officially’.

Luka skimmed over the file, handing them over to Marinette to look at after he was done, “You’re saying her husband is active again?”

Tikki nodded, “Yes, after two years of inactivity, it seems something prompted him to move again.”

Marinette muttered quietly, “Or someone.” She caught the three pairs of eyes looking at her, “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that both started suspicious activity, granted, it’s months apart to be able to tell clearly and has no correlation with each-other, but I believe his wife gave him green light to act.”

Plagg crossed his arms, “We thought that too. The Rossi-Vanetti’s, ever since their coalition years back, had worked simultaneously and always in correlation to each-other. Either way, one of them is sleeping on the couch and acting up, or they try to avoid suspicion and act independently from each-other.”

Luka rubbed his chin, glancing at the document again, “We can’t ignore all these possibilities, since we don’t have any reliable sources on their relationship. Marco Vinetti was never previously involved with drugs of any type, much less hallucinogens, that was mostly his wife’s forte. The Vinetti’s were more commonly known to illegally produce and sell alcohol to America, France and England.” He scratched his neck, “It doesn’t make sense why his M.O. suddenly switched to drugs, after two years no less.”

Plagg shrugged half-heartedly, “Maybe he needed time to brew in his kitchen.”

Tikki rolled her eyes, “Or Lila Rossi has a plan and tries covering it up by diverting all the attention to her husband in Italy.”

Marinette huffed, “Wouldn’t surprise me, she was always a snake.” Luka winced slightly at the unadulterated venom in his friend’s voice and the use of a nickname a former acquittance always gave him.

“According to your findings, Lila Rossi is…” Luka’s eyes narrowed on the document, depicting the last known location of activity one of their men found.

“…In Paris.” Tikki’s voice cut through the air like a knife on butter and Marinette played with one of her pigtails.

“How could she be last seen in Marseilles and just suddenly show up in Paris without anyone noticing?” she was nervous, why had she been in Marseilles? For how long? How did none of their other colleagues notice her movements?

Luka bit his lip worriedly, “Marseilles is a center for trade and industry, for someone from the Mafia, trading routes like road, sea and airport are significant transportation options, especially for selling her…wares. She could’ve hidden them in large ship containers under produce which had gone unnoticed. Maybe she was gathering her financial resources or even men who came by ship.”

“So, she was preparing her army?” Luka nodded at Plagg’s question.

Tikki almost dreaded to ask, but she did anyway, even if she herself had a looming suspicion, “For…what?”

The look in Luka’s eyes reminded Marinette of the times whenever he got lost in thought and thought of his service in his time as a marine, the word that left his mouth shouldn’t have shaken her as it did, “A war.”

* * *

 

Marinette’s legs were heavy as she swung them out of her car, dragging behind her as she locked her vehicle and walked towards her apartment sluggishly.

She barely slept.

She had another nightmare.

On top of all that, a well known mafia family was planning a war?

She had enough.

She needed _sleep._

Sometimes, she was glad Luka kept more watch over her health than she did herself, if Luka hadn’t issued the order for her to go home and rest, with the promise of taking care of the two officers that had injured Chat Noir, she probably wouldn’t have.

A wave of relief washed over when Kim and Ivan waved at her from their slowly moving car, heading back to the precinct to report and get some rest themselves after standing guard over Chat Noir the whole night.

She had to take them out to dinner for compensation.

Marinette’s keys jiggled when she turned the lock on her door and released the deadbolt, another wave of tiredness hitting her as soon as her bare feet touched the carpeted floor of her familiar home.

The yelp she released when she bumped against something that felt like a wall jostled her awake again. She thought it was her bedroom door, but the warmth emanating from it wasn’t inanimate. It felt distinctively human.

She completely forgot about her house guest.

Marinette took a staggering step back, rubbing her sore nose and finally spotting a grim-locking, downright pissed off Chat Noir, arms crossed and feet hip-length apart, resolutely staring her down and blocking her way of getting rest.

“Hey, call in one of your male buddies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you kindly for reading! Tell me what you think so far :)


	6. Chapter 6

 

 “Hey, call in one of your male buddies.” Chat Noir’s snarky tone didn’t impress Marinette one bit.

She was dead tired.

She was ready to _kill_ to get some sleep.

She wouldn’t let _him_ stop her.

Her voice was equally cranky, if not more, “If you don’t want to get a broken wrist, get out of my way.” She usually didn’t threaten criminals, she really didn’t, not if they didn’t threaten her first at least, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Chat Noir looked unimpressed, foot tapping as much as the chain allowed him to, “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as you call a guy.”

That was _it._

“Alright already! Why? For _what_?!” she quickly shoved her hand into her pocket, violently ripping her phone out and speed typing for her contacts.

He rolled his eyes, “It’s been nearly a week, you know what I haven’t done in a week?”

She stared blankly at the criminal before her, brain already shutting down to sleep and reboot for the next few hours, until he roughly shook his chains in annoyance, “ _Bathed!_ I didn’t take a single shower in a fucking _week_! So either way you call in one of your men or watch me undress and bathe me yourself, lieutenant!” the flaring of his nostrils and the pure fury in his eyes told her just how aggravated the cat really was.

Couldn’t she get even a bit of sleep before she had to tend to him?!

Marinette ignored the heating of her cheeks, finger shaking above her phone display, “We can’t undo your cuffs.” Despite her exhaustion, she was glad the authoritative tone almost came automatically when in front of criminals.

In a rare show of indulgement, either in her suffering or his sole amusement, Chat Noir smirked and moved closer to her, so close she had to crane her neck up and caught a whiff of his scent, a stinging, sweaty smell mixed with herbs she’d put on his leg, “Fine, then _clean me_ with your own hands, I bet that will be _fun_.”

The dark-haired woman promptly turned around to escape the piercing green eyes glowing in amusement and the stupid haughty smirk that should be illegal, instead she reached for the device she’d absently discarded, hiding the fierce redness over her cheeks and neck, before a dry voice sounded from behind her, “It’s in your back pocket.” Chat Noir’s eyes traveled down to her backside, where her phone peeked out of her back-pocket. His gaze stayed there a moment too long, even after the phone was gone, before he looked away and cleared his throat.

 _When_ had she put it there again?! Didn’t she have it in her hand a second ago?! _What was she doing?!_

Trying to tune out the amused chuckles behind her, Marinette mentally cursed herself before she grabbed her phone again and dialed up the first person she could think of.

_A little longer than a few minutes later…_

The dark-skinned man scrunched his nose, Chat Noir leveling him with a flat, peeved look, “Okay…why do I have to do this again?” he glanced at Marinette.

Her cheeks, which had regained her normal skin color, turned pinkish again, “B-Because I can’t! And…and he hates police officers Nino!”

“Uh-huh…” Nino Lahiffe crossed his arms, “Aaaand you couldn’t call Nathaniel or Marc _because_ …?”

The female police officer sighed, “…Well, just in case _he_ ,” she gave a sharp glare towards Chat Noir, “-tries anything, I had to call someone more… _able bodied_ just in case.”

The DJ chuckled, his tone as dry as a desert, “What a nice way to say I’m strong.” The sigh that left him could topple mountains as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, “Alright, it’s like bathing a cat, right?” the venomous hiss that followed his comment made Nino pause, “…A bigger, more dangerous, more pissed off cat.”

Marinette moved behind Chat Noir, pushing insistently against his broad back toward the bathroom, leveling him with a warning glare as if to say ‘ _behave’_.

The look on Chat Noir’s face told her he would do anything but.

She only hoped Nino was up to the challenge and could handle him without her help.

In the meantime, she could get some shut-eye.

* * *

 

A good half an hour later, the door lock sounded and steam exited the bathroom.

Marinette tumbled from her half-asleep nest on the couch and stared.

Both men were soaked, Nino more so than Chat Noir, who had a towel thrown around his shoulders, a black shirt clinging to him, hair still dripping and messy.

Nino looked like he had taken a full dunk in the tub, clothes sticking to him like a second skin and water dripping on her carpet.

The DJ flicked his red cap off excess water, trying to shake the last droplets off it, a dark frown on his face, “Nette…” Marinette winced at his tone, “You never said I’m dealing with a crazy cat.”

Chat Noir’s smirk was far too wide for the situation.

“Was he that…difficult?” just what _happened_ in there?

The evil smirk on the criminal’s face told her everything before Nino even opened his mouth, “Don’t ask, I almost died trying to bathe this dude.” The dark-skinned man ran a hand down his face, “He’s worse to deal with than the government…or Alya in that time of the month.”

“Nino!”

“What? It’s true. Get in the tub with him and you’ll know. He’s a nightmare compared to Chris.” With that and a hurried ‘thank you’ from Marinette, he left, muttering something about ‘crazy demon cats’ and ‘stubborn criminals’.

Marinette sighed, rubbing her forehead of the impending headache she could sense was coming.

She watched the way the shirt clung a bit too tightly to Chat Noir’s torso, it was Nino’s shirt, but it still seemed a bit too small on him. She tried to focus on something else than the moving ridges of muscle as he tried squeezing his strands free of water, as much as the short chain would allow him movement.

“We…will need to get you a set of clothes. Where is your apartment?”

Silence.

And a death glare.

The woman sighed again, “Didn’t think you’d answer that.” She checked the time, “…Guess I’ll need to ring a colleague over to buy you a few things. Is ‘Medium’ alright?” she grabbed her phone again.

Chat Noir, still armed with a glare, sighed, as if the bath had physically and mentally drained him, “…’Large’. And black and green would be fine.”

Marinette’s teeth grinded together as she waited for the caller to pick up, “Any more _wishes_ , your majesty?”

He pretended to think, before smirking, “Yeah, underwear would be _clawsome_ too.”

The lady flung her phone at his face so fast he almost didn’t catch it, fumbling with the device before he heard whoever she called finally picked up, “ _Hello?”_

“Good morning, I would like a few things delivered to Lieut. Dupain-Cheng’s house as soon as possible. Clothes that will cover for at least two weeks, size ‘L’, colors in black, green, grey and white. Red is negotiable, but try to avoid red, it clashes too much with my eyes. Also, underwear, a three week’s worth, size-“

Marinette had her hands glued to her ears the whole short journey to her bedroom, closing and locking her door to finally get some sleep.

All she heard afterwards when she finally deemed it safe enough to drop her hands from her head was the yell sounding from her phone and Chat Noir’s amused chuckles.

That man would be the death of her.

* * *

 

“Hey, lieutenant, you awake yet?” the knocks on her door sounded like blaring sirens from Alix’ firefighter vehicle and the woman rolled onto her side, facing away from the door.

“Mma ‘sleep…” she mumbled into her comforter, pulling the blanket up over her head.

The doorknob rattled impatiently and Chat Noir’s sing-song voice sounded again, “…I picked your lock.”

She didn’t move an inch.

“I raided your fridge.”

Marinette was out of her bed in seconds and right in Chat Noir’s face, door flung open not even three seconds after he finished his sentence.

Her heavy eyes narrowed, “You better be joking, cat.”

Her cranky, sleep-deprived self was met with a smirk.

For her own sanity, Marinette shoved past him towards the kitchen to check on her food.

She should’ve thought sooner, he couldn’t even eat half of the things inside since he couldn’t use his hands to open anything, “On second thought, I could call that prison in the middle of an island again, I’m sure they have an available, isolated cell for you.”

The man huffed, unimpressed. “I’m so _scared_.”

They both stared each-other down, before she slumped tiredly on her chair, “Why…it’s still so early!”

He pointedly looked at the clock, “It’s 12:30pm. You came in here at ten, since you slept in the precinct, genius.”

She frowned at the mocking insult, before standing up and fixing herself some coffee, placing two cups down from the cupboard.

Chat Noir arched a brow curiously, “Sit, you got washed, now you’ll get fed.” This time, he didn’t rebel against the commanding tone of her voice.

Moody women weren’t always his strong point, especially not armed ones with combat skills. He decided to stay quiet, feeling better after taking a shower.

He felt just a small twinge of guilt for causing that Nino guy so much trouble, he hadn’t been a cop and he had been nice enough, helping him out of his clothes and washing his hair for him.

Chat Noir also thanked his lucky stars for the man to have a sense of respect and decency, quickly unchaining him so he could wash his privates himself, before the dreaded cuffs were on him immediately after. He still relished the seconds of freedom he had.

In hindsight, he could’ve knocked him out and escaped, but the cop was outside, a gun always within reach and all exits locked, searching for the keys would’ve wasted precious, limited time.

He also needed new clothes.

He looked ridiculous.

He hoped none of his members saw him like this.

Chat Noir frowned at the thought of his kittens back at their hideouts, what they were possibly thinking, plotting. If rival gangs had started harassing them now with him temporarily out of commission.

A sigh left him, “Something wrong?” Marinette’s back was still turned to him as she prepared coffee.

“…Thanks…for the shower.” He cleared his throat, the words were starting to get easier to say, at least to her, she was civil enough with him, despite the circumstances. He knew from experience, any other cop wouldn’t grant such requests of criminals, they would leave them to their own devices.

Her tone sounded lighter, less tense, “Of course, it’s your basic rights, that much I’m allowed to grant.” She finally turned around, two steaming cups in her hands, a red straw peeking out of one of them. Chat Noir rose an eyebrow when she placed it in front of him, the red straw moving with the action, “It’s easier to drink like this.”

He nodded his thanks, mildly bewildered she had thought of this solution, before she placed her own cup down and turned back around, retrieving something from the fridge, “I hope you like to eat croissants.”

Chat Noir felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when the cop placed a plate full of three smaller cut croissants in front of him, along with butter and chocolate, “I don’t know what you like to eat them with, so just tell me which spread you want and I can-“

“…Thank you.” His voice was softer, filled with genuine gratitude Marinette never heard before from a criminal’s mouth, at least not the more dangerous one she always dealt with.

She blinked, “…W-what?”

Chat Noir himself looked a bit dazed, before clearing his throat and straightening his back, the open expression that had been there for a split second gone, “Thank you for the food.” He avoided looking at her as he began to eat, internally relieved to see she had cut them into smaller pieces for him to easily grab with his teeth and swallow in his mouth.

It was beneath him, he had pride as a first class criminal, he had _dignity_ , dignity which could not easily be stripped from him , despite everything he was forced to do, he was a self-respected adult who _did not_ \- “…You did them yourself?”

-ask for recipes.   

Marinette allowed the briefest smiles to curl her lips before she quickly hid it with her rim of her cup, “Yes.”

He bit his tongue to not meowl at the amazing taste that exploded on his taste buds, it was almost enough to completely destroy his defenses.

He should be more cautious, more guarded that she could poison him or at least drug him to get answers, but his stomach kept screaming at him to shove it and eat his plate clean because he had no idea when he would eat this good again, not if he tried escaping this place.

He would take her with him, she would be their chef, a chef that could cook well and defend herself if worst comes to worst.

The perfect recruit.

He would _make_ her join them if she resisted, he would kidnap her and keep her in his quarters.

Chat Noir dislodged his thoughts when he sensed her eyes on him, schooling his features into a neutral expression as he ate and drank his coffee.

It was a _purrety_ good coffee.

Chat Noir lifted his head when the cop cleared her throat, “Any incidents I should know about? I hope you behaved.” She shot him a suspicious look.

He scoffed, “Tch, Tweedledee and Tweedledum watched me like hawks.” He chewed on another piece of croissant before swallowing, “You should really strengthen security, if I had broken out of my restraints, I would’ve easily beat them up.”

It seemed like his gloating didn’t impress the officer one bit, “Think again. Ivan used to do professional boxing in his youth and Kim is the fastest runner and best athlete around, he’s almost on par with a panther.” The particular memory with a certain panther in the zoo made Marinette shake her head. She was thankful Kim had matured, _a bit_ , from their time as teenagers.

“You know I could use this information against you, right?” Chat Noir rose an eyebrow, questioning her intelligence.

Marinette leaned forward and allowed a rare, playful smirk to curl her lips, “And just how sure are you the information I just said holds a sliver of truth?”

Chat Noir remained silent for a while, “…The panther one is negotiable, I’ve heard worse.”

Marinette snorted in mock laughter, finishing her coffee and cleaning her cup in the sink with her back to him.

“So, when will you get these chains off me, miss lieutenant?” Chat Noir lifted his head to look at her but his gaze stopped at t he swing of her hips.

_Focus!_

His head shot up at breakneck speed when she turned, “When my evil rival donates all of her fortune to charity, which will never happen, mister criminal.”

The haughty look on her face was infinitely better than the stoic, almost murderous hardass cop persona. He hoped he was warming up to her.

He curbed down the feeling of something pleasant when she smirked and said, “That good enough of an answer for you, Chat Noir?”

This woman was starting to annoy him in a different way, not that he couldn’t say wasn’t a breath of fresh air from her initial high distrust of him, maybe he could soften her up, “It sure is, princess.”

That seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, women usually swooned at his flirts, but her expression turned stoic and cold and she collected the empty cup and dish from the table and went to clean them.

Oh, right, she didn’t like being called princess.

Damn.

He stood up from his chair and was about to say something, until the doorbell suddenly rang.

His mood soured, what timing.

Marinette dried her hands quickly and walked towards the door, peering through the spy eye briefly before swinging the door open in surprise, “Luka?”

Chat Noir’s mood darkened even more.

What was that _snake_ doing here?

He discreetly watched from behind the wall, watching the woman’s every move.

“Hey, Ma-Ma-Marinette.” The criminal rose an eyebrow at the weird use of the woman’s name before Luka’s voice turned slightly whiny, “…Why me?” Luka rose an eyebrow as he handed her the bags, “I’m supposed to be _your_ superior, you know?”

Marinette giggled nervously, taking the bags from his hands, “I’m so sorry, Luka! I actually called Marc but uhm…”

Luka sighed, “He gave the phone to me in a panic and I had to write down whatever _catass_ listed up on his wish list.” He smirked, crossing his arms in amusement, distinctively hearing a low hiss from somewhere in the apartment.

Marinette bowed her head, “I’m sorry, I promise to make it up to you.”

A gentle hand landed on her shoulder and Marinette looked up at Luka’s gentle expression and kind blue eyes, “It’s alright, anything for you. Just make sure you keep yourself safe, alright?”

Marinette beamed a warm smile up at him and nodded, “I will, don’t worry.”

Before Luka could turn to go back to the precinct, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face Marinette, “Did you forget something?”

Luka scratched the back of his neck, an action Marinette knew he did whenever he felt uncomfortable, nervous or shy, “To be honest…why don’t you join me for lunch tomorrow during break? It’s been a while.”

He was right, Alya usually always came by to swoop Marinette away so the girls enjoyed lunch together, it felt like decades since Marinette ate lunch with Luka, “I’d love to Luka.”

The bright grin on his lips was worth seeing, “ _Eggcellent_.” They both chuckled at the silly joke.

A dark aura surrounded Chat Noir and he wished he still had his gloves to dig his claws into the man’s face, “Tch, _that’s_  what he calls a pun? Pathetic.”

He quickly and silently moved over to the couch when he heard the door closing, sitting in his usual spot and trying to act nonchalantly.

Marinette stopped at the doorway, glancing at him for a brief moment before setting the shopping bags next to his sitting form, “Alright, I think these are enough.”

Wait, if Couffaine was shopping for him, then-

Chat Noir hastily used his teeth to flip one bag upside down, using legs and bound hands to look over the articles of clothes. Marinette helped in dumping the rest on the couch for Chat Noir to inspect.

Most seemed alright, but there were a few culprits among the bunch.

A neon orange shirt, pink boxer shorts which read ‘ _TEAR ME’_ on the back, two pairs of socks, one with dogs and the other with cats.

Then, the underwear. Thankfully, it was just one, but one pair of boxer shorts had ridiculous motifs on them, pineapples, bananas and a sky blue background.

He would kill Couffaine for this.

Hearing amused giggles, he looked up at the woman in question, who tried covering them with her hand, “Well, he sure has taste.”

Chat Noir wished he was free so he could pinch her nose in punishment or chain her up.

He sighed in defeat, at least now he had clothes.

A sense of dread quickly began filling him and when he glanced at the lady cop, she had similar thoughts to his own.

“…Call that Nino guy.”

This time, Marinette didn’t waste a second.

* * *

 

Nino stretched his back, sighing heavily and rubbing his forehead, “Next time, I want to see cash.”

Marinette bowed apologetically, “Thank you so much Nino! And I’m sorry, what did he do this time?”

The man frowned, “Nothing much, dude’s well behaved, he was just fussy with the underwear, can’t blame him though, I would die if some strange dude dressed me.” He shivered at the uncomfortable thought, rubbing the back of his neck, “Hey Nette?”

Marinette looked up at him, “Yeah?”

Nino cautiously looked back at the closer door before lowering his voice, “You…you’re sure he did it?”

Surprise flickered in bluebell eyes, “What do you mean Nino? That’s _Chat Noir.”_

The DJ held his hands up in defeat, “Yeah, yeah, I know, worst criminal of all times and all but…I don’t know dudette…didn’t seem like he did it this time, not his usual style.”

Marinette rose an eyebrow, “Not his…style? People got killed Nino.” Something hardened in her voice and Nino backtracked.

“Don’t misunderstand Nette, I know but…the victims were women right? Prostitutes? Some…of them were still kids, right?”

She bit her lip, nodding.

“Right…I don’t know, you know that better than me, being a cop and all but… you think someone tried framing him? Knowing it would work since he already has an impressive record?”

Marinette shook her head, “Nino, I don’t understand, why are you even doubting this? He’s a _criminal.”_

The dark-haired man shook his head, placing both hands on his friend’s shoulders, “Nette, I know, I know, but listen, as bad as Chat Noir is, he never got on the news for things like killing women and children, right? At least, I never heard Alya report it before.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, slowly walking through the small corridor and towards the door, “I know I just washed and dressed the dude but… he didn’t attack me, despite having openings. I turned my back on him while he was unchained and he didn’t even move. It doesn’t say much but…” he shrugged helplessly, “Just make sure you check everything over.” With that, he left.

Marinette frowned, a stinging feeling in her chest.

How could Nino even _question_ it? Chat Noir was barely caught close to the scene, the women and children were involved in prostitution and illegal sex trafficking, which a group associated with Chat Noir had done in the past. All evidence pointed to him. His suit had also been covered in blood, his boots and lower legs at least.

Marinette sighed, massaging the tense area on the back of her neck before she heard the rattling of chains within her bedroom.

Not bothering to knock, Marinette opened it to investigate.

Chat Noir was staring at pictures at her night desk, pictures of her with friends and one with her parents.

“What are you doing?” her eyes narrowed suspiciously, quickly giving her room a once over. He was chained up again, he couldn’t  do anything suspicious, but she felt it was weird why he was still in her room, staring at her pictures no less.

What was he plotting?

Chat Noir stiffened, turning around to look at her.

He was dressed in dark well-fitting jeans and a simple black muscle shirt and Marinette tried not to feel surprise at seeing how broad his shoulders really were.

She suddenly felt like her room as so small with his tall frame in it. She shook her head, dismissing her strange thoughts and blaming it on the lack of sleep, “I hope you’re satisfied, this isn’t the usual service we offer.”

A dry smile crossed his face, it was more like a half smile and a faraway look in his eyes made them darken, “Believe me, I’m aware.”

Something akin to guilt settled into the pit of her stomach and Marinette’s voice came out a bit more quiet than she intended it to sound, “Those officers that…did that to you, detectives investigated the case and found video footage of the infirmary. With the hard evidence, the court easily prosecuted and stripped them off their ranks.” She locked eyes with Chat Noir, “They’ll never have anything to do with people again.”

The man remained silent for a moment, eyes still locked onto hers, before he offered a small half smile, the darkness in his eyes receding, “Hm…would you look at that.”

Marinette rose an eyebrow, stiffening when he suddenly moved towards her, stepping beside her so they were shoulder to shoulder, or rather, Marinette’s shoulder reached his forearm, “A cop turned their back on their own kind. Miracles do happen after all.”

The woman turned her head and looked directly at him, “It’s not a miracle, it’s justice. I never turn my back on justice.”

He turned his own head to look down at her, still smiling that small half smile, “I’ll take your word for it.”

Both parties just stared at each-other for a moment, before Chat Noir walked out of her bedroom, leaving Marinette alone to her thoughts.

And her racing mind.

* * *

 

Kim sat on a chair outside of the small café, legs crossed over one another, top leg bouncing rhythmically in the air as he stirred the dark liquid in his cup, eyes focused on his car parked across the street.

“You’re impatient as always.” He turned his head at the familiar female voice, lips pulling up in a smug smirk.

“f it isn’t the hose monkey.” Voice dripping with a playfulness his job didn’t often allow, Kim’s gaze was fixed on the woman throwing her firefighter helmet into the smaller truck.

Firefighter Alix Kubdel mirrored his smirk, her dark pink hair tousled and messy from her helmet, “Hello to you too, blue canary.”

She sat down next to him, a cup of steaming coffee already waiting for her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What did you guys think so far? :3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I mentioned this before, but if you guys find any errors in my story feel free to tell me, English isn't my first language so there's always room for making unintentional errors here and there. :)

 

Alix snorted softly, setting her cup down, “Hose monkey? You’re the monkey, or did you forget?” she smiled at his confused frown, “With your grabby hands, you’re perfect for climbing trees and saving cats.”

Kim smiled, crossing his arms, “Grabby hands, huh? You should’ve went to the circus, maybe as an acrobat, since you love jumping and running around like a circus monkey.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “That the best you got Chien? I thought police academy polished you up, guess physical training doesn’t make up for the free space that’s still in your skull.”

Kim bumped his shoulder against the firefighter’s, “Insult about my intelligence aside, are you saying you like how fit my body is?”

Alix rubbed the spot between her brows, “When your house is on fire, I won’t come and save your ass.”

Kim snorted, “If someone steals your skateboard, don’t expect me to send out a search party.”

Both adults turned their heads away from each-other, “Introducing: the professionals.”

Kim and Alix turned their heads only to see Alya walking towards them, a notepad in the reporter’s hands, “If it isn’t Cesaire the bloodhound.” Kim raised his coffee cup towards the woman while Alix sent her a smile.

“Ugh, _finally_ , this guy’s been getting on my nerves since I got here.”

Kim snorted, “You got here two minutes ago, buckle up fire ant.”

“That’s more than enough for me to start losing braincells, bluebottle!”

Alya pulled herself a chair out and sat down, clearing her throat, “If you guys are done with marital quarrels, let’s cut to the case.” She produced a few papers from her bag, most folded, a bit worn, “These are some of my notes regarding the…” she looked around, leaning in to whisper to the two, “Chat Noir case.”

Alix nodded, taking the papers and quickly scanning their contents while Kim skimmed over an eye witnesses report, “Did you talk to one of the guys in my department?” her eyes were narrowed, waving one sheet of paper at Alya, “This sounds like the description of the warehouse after we arrived there to douse the flames.”

Alya nodded, pointing to a marked line on it, “Yeah and look at this little detail.”

The pink haired woman didn’t need to read to know what stood there, it had been her words Alya had referenced, “Right. The burn marks on the victims.”

Kim turned his head towards the ladies, setting the report aside on his lap, “Burn marks? But that’s normal, right? Since there was a fire?” he rose an eyebrow curiously.

Alix frowned, “Some bodies that hadn’t been completely burned managed to give the police a few valuable clues, as far as I heard and saw anyway. On some of the bodies, on their arms, legs and backs were imprints of burn marks from cigarettes or other circular shaped objects.”

Kim’s confused expression didn’t melt away, “So? It’s not that uncommon, especially when dealing with illegal sex workers. If they smoked cigarettes, they did far worse and drugs and prostitutes usually go hand in hand.”

The pink haired woman stirred her coffee impatiently, “It wasn’t just that Kim, the children had been drugged too, they all suffered identical injuries like the adults.” Alix shook her head, pointing to the information Alya gathered and underlining a specific sentence in the report, “Read this.”

_Cause of death:_

_Lysergic acid diethylamide_

_Ketamine_

_Lachryma papaveris_

Kim rose an eyebrow, “Um…explain please, you know I was never good in chemistry.” Kim turned the paper this way and that, trying to wrack his brain for chemical formulas he hadn’t seen since his high school days.

Alix sighed, taking the paper back, “LSD, ketamine and opium.”

The policeman’s eyes widened, “What?!” a few patrons looked over and Kim cleared his throat, lowering his voice, “How the hell did they get their hands on that? I get LSD, the black markets leech off it, but ketamine? Opium? I thought that was a drug used in the old ages!”

Alya adjusted her glasses, gathering the papers into a pile again to put them in her bag, “Ketamine is actually used in medicine, it’s used for the anesthesia to start taking effect and to not wear off. It’s legal, but when used in higher, uncontrolled doses it can have the same effects as hallucinogenic drugs. Opium is mostly processed into a stronger form such as heroin, which amplifies its effects. The amount the toxicology report showed was thrice the amount capable of killing an adult person.” The reporter crossed her arms over her bag after securing her notes inside, “There’s also the issue about the bodies that were brutally mutilated.”

Alix shifted in her seat, hearing about mutilated, sliced up bodies generally always sent a heavy feeling sitting in her stomach, she didn’t flinch at burnt flesh but sliced up body pieces always made her retch.

Kim was different, he could handle everything _but_ fire, specifically burnt corpses. He would wrinkle his nose in disgust, claiming he couldn’t stand the smell, but Alix knew better. Being burned alive by flames is worse than death met by a pistol according to him, because the cause for death was one the victim couldn’t control, didn’t _know_. A human was different than the force of nature. Humans were terrifying, but nature was terrifying in its own right.

Kim, having been left in the dark about the details of the investigation, since he himself was of low rank, eagerly swallowed up every information like a sponge, Ivan and Marinette were bound to interest this, if Marinette didn’t know it already, “Why would there be an issue?”

Alya pushed her hair behind her ear, taking a long sip of her coffee before she responded, her usually confident voice sounding insecure, “Well…they…they…none of them had Chat Noir’s mark.”

Alix stared at her blankly, “Mark? What mark?”

“Claws.” Kim wasn’t a detective, but every policeman, even those stuck on traffic patrols, knew of Chat Noir. Especially how he signed his crimes.

Whether on objects or victims, there was always a claw scratch or two left on the scene, they didn’t know if Chat Noir was just proud of his achievements and marking his territory or if he was intentionally messing with the police, but a crime wasn’t done by Chat Noir if there were no claw marks.

Those scratches marked the beginning of his criminal career as far as Kim had heard, since day one he’d signed his crimes that way, it would be out of character to suddenly stop right before getting caught, for the first time no less, by the police.

Alix shrugged, “Maybe he forgot? There was a fire, firefighters, police cars and ambulances were on their way.”

Kim crossed his arms, scoffing, “Tch, that never stopped him. There were so many times where he slipped away from right beneath our fingers and each time he left his signature. Alya is right, something doesn’t add up.”

The firefighter rubbed her chin, “So, the information I had was still valuable after all, since it doesn’t add up with Chat Noir’s usual M.O. either.”

Both adults nodded and Alya finally voiced out the thing that nobody dared to say out loud, “It looked like it was a setup.”

* * *

 

It was only a few days after Tikki and Plagg’s visit that the criminal’s demeanor had changed.

Marinette had just come home from grocery shopping, for once deeming it safe enough to leave Chat Noir unsupervised in the few minutes she’d been gone, the stupid man had thrown a fit yesterday, over some _TV cook_ and it had taken all of Marinette’s strength to hold the man back from creating a Chat Noir-sized hole in her TV. After that ordeal, he’d been out like a light, sleeping through the night like a dangerous little baby.

She slowly set her grocery bags down onto the ground, taking off her shoes, ears straining to hear for any noise.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

It had only started yesterday, but Chat Noir had turned from a relatively silent prisoner to a nerve-wracking nuisance.

Picking up some noise in the bathroom, Marinette made a sharp turn and swung the door open, slamming open the cabinet above the toilet, “Aha!”

Empty.

Empty of Chat Noir.

Marinette soon found out the source of the noise.

It was on the floor.

Laying in shambles.

_Was that the decorative, colored glass duck Rose had bought her as a present?!_

Marinette’s fists clenched.

There will be hell to pay.   

Footsteps.

Now he would get it.

Marinette stormed towards the kitchen like a raging bull, normally light steps stomping on the floor noisily as she marched towards the living room first, furious bluebell eyes scanning her surroundings for the evil furrball hiding somewhere.

What was his _problem?_

What was _her_ problem?

She could usually deal fine with criminals, so why was this one making so much-

“ _RAWR!”_

Moving on instinct, Marinette dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way just as another body hit the spot she’d been standing on moments before.

It was Chat Noir.

Balanced on elbows and feet, on all fours, “You’re home lieutenant.”

Marinette scowled darkly, rising to her feet, “ _You-!”_ Chat Noir, despite his chained state, had lightning fast reflexes, jumping to his feet and rushing out of the living room, towards the bathroom.

Marinette, running on adrenaline and pure anger, stretched her arms out as far as they’d go and jumped, hands just barely catching ahold of his thighs as they both dropped to the floor like logs.

An annoyed huff, “You’re no fun, lieutenant.”

“And _you’re_ a dead man, Chat Noir!” despite her firm beliefs of never unnecessarily extorting power on the defenseless, the vice like grip she had around his forearm didn’t deter her in the slightest from showing the stupid cat the damage he’d done, “Look at this!”

He turned his head instead.

Marinette grabbed his jaw and firmly pulled him back to look at the shattered remains of a blue colored glass duck, “Look what you did! My friend bought that for me you stupid criminal!”

Chat Noir snorted, lips pursed as the woman firmly held his jaw and cheeks in place, “Ish thoughtsht shicht wuss shtoy.”

Something snapped in Marinette’s brain, “You thought it was a _toy_?”

Her eye twitched when he nodded.

Marinette released him and huffed, storming out to grab her grocery bags and reorganize her kitchen, Chat Noir following behind her.

“Once we find your den, you’ll pay me back for every stupid stunt you did in the past two days.”

A day after Tikki and Plagg’s visit, she noticed an odd change in Chat Noir’s behavior.

He was a bit more carefree, or…free to do as he pleased. He would even crack jokes on occasion, the weirdest of them all were cat puns of all things.

He would actively _annoy_ her.

Not with death threats or aggressive assaults or his passive aggressiveness.

But with _puns_.

He would also hide in unimaginable places.

In high cupboards, in small drawers where a normal human wouldn’t even fit into like a cat and not miss an opportunity to tease or give her a heart attack.

She found her defenses slowly breaking, the tough cop persona she’d carefully crafted over her years of active duty had all shattered in the span of two days, after he’d not only shattered that glass duck, but also a vase and a not-so-cheap antique mini-sculpture her mom had brought her from China.

It was like some switch turned in him.

She didn’t know how to turn it back. She much preferred his quiet, murderous aura from before than the evil nuisance he’d become.

It was when she packed yoghurt and milk into her fridge that she heard his voice from somewhere behind her, a safe enough distance that she didn’t clobber him, but close enough that it seemed like he was in the kitchen and not the interconnected living room, “Why would anyone buy a friend some duck made from glass. And _who_ puts that into their bathroom full of tiles?”

Marinette summoned all the patience she thought she still had, she was thankful her duty gun was locked in her night desk, she wasn’t sure how safe her twitching hands were right now to not aim the barrel at the blond’s head, “Other question: what grown man hides in miniature sized cupboards at night and waits until a trained officer enters her bathroom just to scare the crap out of her?”

Chat Noir remained silent for a few minutes, before the chains rattled, “Not my fault you don’t provide entertainment for your house guests, lieutenant.”

At this, Marinette practically slammed the milk into the side of the fridge door, setting them in place, “You’re a criminal not a house guest. And my job is to keep you detained until your case clears up, not to _entertain_ you.”

He smirked, “Whatever you say, lady cop.” Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes, trying to act professional with him.

She didn’t know why his demeanor did a backflip, but she suspected it was a façade to let her guard down and be more comfortable with him.

She was a pro, she would not be fooled that easily.

* * *

 

Chat Noir watched her discreetly from the corner of his eye, putting away the groceries she’d bought earlier.

He stubbornly tore his gaze away whenever it strayed to her hips, staring at the ceiling or other unmoving objects instead.

Tch.

Clearing his throat, he tried sounding as non-interested as possible, “Any progress regarding my case?”

She didn’t miss a beat, “If we did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“So, nothing then.” He clicked his tongue.

He heard an exasperated sigh and a small smile curved his lips. It was all the entertainment he had in the house, aside from the staring contests he had with Tweedledee and Tweedledum in the mornings and evenings and the occasional badmouthing of that TV cook.

He had stumbled upon this source of entertainment by accident.

It was in the evening after she’d told him she’d reported those asshole cops that had injured him and she’d cursed him out for spilling milk all over the countertop due to not having free hands to catch the cup before it fell.

He’d laid in his makeshift bed on the couch that night, thinking over her surprisingly open reaction. He hadn’t expected her to curse him out, less viciously than he expected, it made him feel oddly…smug more than anything.

He’d also thought of her answer, how she told him the cops were dealt with and stripped off their ranks.

He was Chat Noir, leader of one of the most fearsome gangs in France, conqueror of turfs, expert thief and master lock picker, but he couldn’t deny the oddly familiar rush of gratitude and something else when he heard that.

She’d went against people in her own workplace, on the same side of ‘justice’  and she had showed not an ounce of pity nor understanding for them.

That had been directed at _him_.

Understanding.

Something he hadn’t experienced up until now, especially from so called government dogs like police officers.

It was a refreshing change.

It was a _change._

A change he didn’t want to admit but couldn’t overlook.

He was aware Couffaine was similar, as much as he hated his guts and wanted to claw the snake’s eyes out, he would much rather be locked in a room with him than fifty shady cops.

His eyes strayed to the lady cop again and he nearly jumped when he saw bluebell eyes intently staring at him, “What?” his tone was snippy, defenses up on high alert.

Had she seen something? Why was she looking at him so weirdly? He didn’t very much appreciate being sneaked up on.

She sat down opposite of him at the kitchen table, staring him straight in the eye, “Listen, I know you’re acting so differently to lure me in with a false sense of security, so I can drop my guard and take those chains off you.” He stiffened, sitting up straighter in his chair, “I don’t underestimate you, so you don’t underestimate me. You’re a criminal and I’m the one who will lock you behind bars, you _won’t_ escape from me Chat Noir.” The look in her eyes would’ve made him feel proud if she’d been on his side, so fierce and determined it awakened a thirst for battle in him.

He knew he couldn’t sway her with charms, he’d tried, so the direct approach had been the best to work between them so far, “I don’t doubt your intelligence lieutenant, however I truly am bored to death here.” He waved his bound hands for emphasis, but her eyes narrowed further, a scowl marring her features, “I also never underestimate my opponents, which explains how I’m the most dangerous criminal in France you’ve sunk your claws into.”

“Then do me a favor and stop destroying my house.”

He sighed, long and hard, “Then give me something to do.”

She rose an eyebrow, “Watch TV.”

He growled, “Right.” If his eyes had rolled any further, they’d have sunk to the back of his skull, “You seem to favor that stupid cooking show, I detest that cook. Have you seen what he did to croissants?”

Marinette nearly ripped her hair out, “I don’t care what he did to them! You have two options: watch TV and behave or nag me and get punished for annoying me!”

Chat Noir stood up to his full height, something akin to dark amusement flashing in his eyes, “And how do you plan to _purrish_ me, little lady?”

If looks could kill, he’d already be beneath the ground he stood on.

She stood up from her chair, attempting to pass by him to the living room, “I’m not going to play your games.”

He shifted to block her way, “Why not?” he tilted his head, a dark grin curling his lips, eyes alight with mirth, “It may be _purrty pawsome_ to try miss lieutenant.”

His smirk widened when she tried moving to the other side, but he easily moved his body to intercept her again, _again_ blocking her way. He could see the mounting fury in her eyes, it _did_ amuse him slightly.

“Chat Noir.” His name fell from her lips in a threatening tone he wished was more directed at a certain snake than himself.

“Yes, lieutenant?” his smirk froze when he felt her suddenly press closer to his body and shove her leg in-between his ones. Years of training prevented him from jumping when he felt her leg rise, knee about reaching his thighs. His eyes shot to her own unflinching gaze, silently contemplating why she went into such a position.

What was she-

“If you don’t move out of my way you’ll end up in the infirmary for an entirely different injury.”

_Oh._

He couldn’t help it, he chuckled, “ _Meowch_ , lieutenant and here I thought we were _furriends_.” He grinned, but in the next second, moved at lightning speed.

Chat Noir raised his locked hands, attempting to slam them to the side of her head and into the cupboard next to them.

He would be lying when he said he expected her to react as fast as she did, but he was satisfied with her quick reflexes, “I see you didn’t let your guard down, smart woman.” He moved again, twisting his body to attempt another attack.

What he hadn’t expected was the fast kick to his jaw, it momentarily stunned him and that was all she needed to gain the upper hand.

With his hands and feet chained as they were, it was easy for her to throw him onto his back on the floor and pin him down, one hand pressed against his stomach and the other holding a small knife against his neck.

Their eyes locked and he hissed, trying to overpower her with sheer strength but she surprisingly held her own, the hand on his stomach harshly pressing him down as the blade pressed against his skin. It was the dull side of the blade.

“You think your little act was enough to make me drop my guard?” he glared up at her, gritting his teeth.

“Seems I took it a little too lightly in trying to get you on my good side, hm?” the joking nature of his voice was entirely lost to the highly alerted cop above him.

“’Good’ side, huh? Try coming onto the ‘legal’ side for starters.” He huffed, craning his neck away from the blade pressed against it.

“Would you look at that, armed at all times, aren’t we lieutenant?” it was just a second, but a second he made count, “Unfortunately, I’ll get the upper hand in this fight.”

In the brief second where the blade wasn’t pressed against his neck, Chat Noir raised his hips harshly and bucked her off, using the momentum and his legs to propel himself above her, his bound hands wrapping around the front of her neck after he got his arms over her head.

It was difficult to choke her like this, as his hands were entirely covered in tough fabric and impossible to use them functionally, but he could attempt it nonetheless.

He didn’t think it would be easy, as she proved it immediately.

“ _Argh_! Get _off_ me!” She was moving wildly, the small knife discarded somewhere away from her and Chat Noir evaded her hands, headbutting her from the back instead.

Marinette’s forehead hit the floor after the headbutt, a pained groan escaping her as Chat Noir used her momentary dizziness to his advantage and tried choking her by pushing her head down harshly.

“ _Mmphff!_ ”

The woman struggled like a wild cat, nails digging into the floor, body still trying to push him off frantically until she gradually started to still.

He only moved when she stopped moving completely.

It was over.

Chat Noir panted heavily, blood still boiling with adrenaline from their scuffle.

He slowly tried sitting up and then it happened.

He made a mistake rookies normally did.

He relaxed.   

A blinding force slammed into the back of his head and his eyes flew open when the cop bucked him off, sliding her head out of the choke hold of his arms. He realized it had been her foot that had struck him from the back.

He was weightless for a second, the same feeling before he’d gotten thrown into the TV weeks ago, his legs automatically wrapped around the cop’s waist when he crashed onto the kitchen table.

And took her with him.

Marinette was _livid._

She slammed her elbow into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and his legs loosened their iron hold on her waist, completely sliding off when her head met his jaw in a painful collision.

The feline criminal groaned, legs curling in at the sharp pain in his side from the elbow hits.

He peeked one eye open.

Marinette was panting heavily, body leaned against the wall as she tried catching her breath, face and neck red from either their scuffle or keeping her breath in.

He hissed at the jab of pain not only in his stomach, but on his still healing leg.

Damn. He forgot about that.

Her gaze was murderous, locked onto his own glaring one, “You were saying?”

He grit his teeth in frustration, hissing at the pain.

She was holding her side when his eyes closed shut.

* * *

 

 _“I’m sending him to La Sante.”_ A distant, eerily familiar male voice surrounded him, somewhere, it was somewhere close but far away.

 _“Don’t, I’m alright.”_ Another voice, this time female. It also sounded familiar.

His senses were muddled. He felt like he was swimming in clouds of fog, unable to see or feel much.

Except for the damn headache.

Was that his stomach? His stomach was killing him.

His leg burned too.

_“You’re not! Look what he tried to do to you! Marinette, I won’t stand by and wait. Not this time.”_

Ah, the lady cop.

Wait…

Who was the other voice?

Chat Noir tried to move, but he couldn’t really feel his body or where he was. Was he even awake? Was he dreaming?

What happened? The rhythmic pounding in his head got worse and Chat Noir tried to open his eyes but still only saw darkness.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he started feeling all the pain his body was in. He could hear more clearly, it sounded like the voices were somewhere near him.

“ _Luka please, I’m fine. These are superficial injuries. I managed to detain him.”_ The softer, female voice of the lieutenant drifted into his mind, it sounded far lighter than the deeper, harsher tones she used with him, it sounded feminine, light, friendly.

_Warm._

_‘Ugh, my head.’_ Chat Noir felt disembodied, as if he wasn’t really there, but he slowly started feeling his body, or what he thought were his limbs, his fingers were slowly wiggling, but in some confined space.

Was he still bound?

Where even was he? He smelled chemicals.

Wait…

It suddenly hit him.

She said ‘Luka’.

White hot rage filled him suddenly and Chat Noir felt a burst of heat in the pit of his stomach.

_Couffaine!_

What was that snake doing here?!

Chat Noir slowly tried opening his eyes, immediately being assaulted by something blinding and painful.

Was that the light? Why was it so bright?

He groaned, head lulling from side to side until his eyes slowly fluttered open, heavy lids slowly raising until his muddled view cleared after blinking a few times.

White.

The smell of chemicals.

Medicine.

He recognized that room.

The infirmary.

“Marinette.” Chat Noir turned his head, he knew that voice, it was Couffaine’s, “You’re lucky you don’t have a concussion or any fractures, but please listen to me. I’ll send him to La Sante, he’ll get a taste of his own medicine there until the investigation ends.”

He detected the anger in the former marine’s tone, anger usually reserved for him.

He himself had plenty to spare for that scaly bastard.

His gaze finally focused again and it landed on two figures a few feet in front of him with him sitting somewhere on the floor.

Marinette was sitting upright on the infirmary bed, a gauze wrapped around her head, a cut bottom lip and a darkening bruise on her chin. Luka’s larger frame was sitting next to her, a hand resting lightly on her cheek while the other rested on her knee.

He wondered if he looked as beaten up as her.

He froze when he saw something shiny on her face and realized that it was a tear, sliding down the expanse of her cheek down her jaw before she quickly wiped it away, a sob escaping her.

It was a soft sound but it stirred something within him.

Something deep within his chest.

A memory.

Blurred images of a smudged window and a dirt path guarded by a towering gate, a boy’s cries echoing in his mind.

He returned back to the present when a low voice caught his attention, “You…”

Chat Noir lifted his head, spotting Couffaine sitting up from the infirmary bed, gaze murderous, lips pulled back into an angry snarl.

“Luka wait-!”

The former marine charged forward.

The uppercut delivered to his jaw barely registered to Chat Noir at first, his mind was swimming even more, as if his entire body was separated from his head.

He punched him.

Chat Noir spat out blood, teeth gritting together in anger. His cheek stung as if fire burned him until he realized he’d bitten the inside of his cheek to curb the pain.

The asshole was still towering over him, fist shaking in unadulterated anger and Chat Noir hissed sharply, despite his dizziness and the pain he was in, instincts kicked in, making him jump to his feet.

The only thing keeping him from clawing the snake’s eyes out was a force keeping him on the spot.

It was a thick restraining leather band, wrapped around his waist.

Chat Noir growled when it applied pressure to the sore spot on his side but turned his head back to glare at his opponent.

Luka didn’t waste another opportunity.

He swung his fist out again.

Chat Noir fell to his knees, crying out through clenched teeth at the added explosion of pain. It nearly blinded him, his eyes shutting automatically closed.

_“ **Stop!** ”_

Everything seemed to stop.

Time seemed to stand still.

Chat Noir remained motionless, torso quivering slightly from the bursts of pain as he whimpered pathetically on the floor, chained and bound like a dog.

He didn’t feel the iron hard fists beating upon him anymore, he had doubted Couffaine still had it in him, but a marine was still a marine even if he didn’t don the uniform anymore.

He should’ve known better.

Still, what made him stop attacking him? Surely not the lady cop’s words?

Taking a quivering breath, trying to ignore the pain it sent shooting down his spine, Chat Noir slowly opened his eyes.

Red greeted him, the red clad back of the lieutenant kneeling in front of him.

Shielding him.

Couffaine was still out for blood but his expression softened when he looked directly at the woman in front of him, “Marinette, move.”

“No!” her voice was fierce, a complete contrast to the soft whimper it was before, “I won’t! I won’t allow you to hurt him Luka!”

“He hurt you! He could’ve _killed_ you Marinette!” even Chat Noir almost flinched at the loud volume of the former marine’s voice, even back in the day, the man rarely lost his composure.

He had definitely lost it now.

“I know!” her body trembled, as if the action was physically exhausting her, “I-I know, I know he could’ve Luka. He just wanted to escape, he’s a criminal, I would’ve done the same in his stead.” Shock filled him to the bones at her words and Chat Noir remained completely still, “I’ll strengthen security, I won’t go near him anymore I promise. I was careless, he took advantage of it, you can’t blame him for thinking like a caged animal when he is treated like one!”

She lifted her head, her heavy stare boring into Luka and the Colonel’s fists shook in barely suppressed anger, “ _Please._ Do it for me, Luka.”

A moment of tension-filled silence, Chat Noir himself thought Couffaine would have a go at him again, despite her words, but instead he growled and turned sharply, exiting the infirmary.

When his gaze strayed to the door, it was the first time Chat Noir saw that reporter woman often seen on TV. She looked scared, angry and concerned all at once as she watched them like a hawk.

His eyes moved back to the woman before him, still kneeling, until she slowly, shakily moved to her feet.

It was slow, her knees shaking as if she would collapse any second, but the reporter was already by her side, an arm around her back as the two women slowly walked out of the infirmary.

Before they were completely outside, Chat Noir swore he heard the words the lieutenant whispered beneath her breath.

_‘Stupid cat’._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! :3 How was the chapter so far? Any thoughts? 
> 
> Translation:   
> Bluebottle - old term for police (referring to old style uniforms)  
> Blue canary - term mostly used by firefighters for police officers  
> Hose monkey - used by police officers for firefighters


	8. Chapter 8

 

The air was colder a floor below than it was upstairs in the precinct main area, maybe Chat Noir was imagining it, but he blamed the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end on the cold.

The iron grip on his bound wrists didn’t make the situation any better, his footsteps were heavy and his hands itched to be free and put his gloves back on again.

It’s been a week since his gloves had been taken from him and he felt naked without the tough leather between his hands and the outside world. The tough cloth his hands were bound in did nothing to soothe the feeling.

Couffaine gave a rough push to his back and Chat Noir stopped and turned his head, glaring at the former marine from the corner of his eye.

The colonel sent an equally scathing glare back at the criminal, the air between them thick with tension since the incident two days ago.

He’d been unceremoniously lead out of the infirmary by none other than the pissed off colonel, after getting treated for his injuries by a doctor and resting for a full day in bed. He knew Couffaine would’ve shoved him into the cell without his injuries getting treated, but of all the things he could call him, unnecessarily cruel wasn’t one. Despite their shared animosity for each-other, he could trust Couffaine not abusing his power, even if he had tempted him to two days prior with his scuffle with the lieutenant.

He hadn’t seen her for two days, even when he was led out of the infirmary through the office area, gaining either scared or angry glares from the police officers around him, Chat Noir hadn’t seen her anywhere.

She must’ve been at home.

Recuperating.

His shoulders slumped.

Couffaine pushed at his back and Chat Noir couldn’t suppress the growl bubbling in his throat this time, “Back off, Couffaine.”

Luka’s iron grip around his wrists tightened even further and he whispered threateningly into Chat Noir’s ear, “Have you backed off of Marinette?” Both men’s faces were set in deep scowls, eyes locked, Chat Noir’s body stiff with tension, “Don’t expect any gentle treatment, especially from me after the shit you pulled, Noir.” The criminal snarled in anger when Couffaine roughly pushed against his shackled wrists, the pressure on them would’ve likely dislocated any other man’s wrists.

Good thing Chat Noir was durable.

His mind moved back to the fight he’d had with the lady cop and he remembered the tears and the sob she’d let out in the infirmary.

It was the first time he’d seen her show such emotion, she hadn’t looked like the tough cop out for his hide, but a hurt woman.

She’d looked _human_.

Chat Noir began walking forward again down the narrow corridor, the colder atmosphere and tense air with the bastard breathing down his neck had him on edge, especially for what he knew was to follow.

The cell.

He could already pick up on distant murmurings, echoing through the corridor bathed in colors of cement grey, they got louder the closer they moved.

Until they finally took a turn and Couffaine unlocked a door.

There was a single, medium-sized cell housing eight men inside, most of which were sitting on the ground.

They all looked up when the second door, the door to the cell, was unlocked.

They instantly froze in what Chat Noir recognized to be silent fear.

They’d recognized him, it would be an insult if they hadn’t, even petty thieves knew of Chat Noir, while not many knew what he looked like, most could guess it was him upon seeing him. He didn’t have his suit on nor equipment, but the toxic green eyes and the black mask was enough.

The jackass marine behind him pushed him inside, releasing the tough cloth wrapped around his hands but leaving the handcuffs shackled above them, “Here’s your new inmate.” With that, he locked the cell door again and left, the slamming of the outside door echoing in the small cell. Chat Noir’s fingers wiggled and moved around, finally tasting fresh air after weeks of being confined to tightly wrapped cloth, it weren’t his gloves, but it was better than nothing.

Seconds ticked by where everyone remained still, Chat Noir scanning the room and mustering each pathetic scoundrel inside.

As soon as Chat Noir took one step, he was given a wide berth from the rest of the inmates, those who were laying in their beds not moving a muscle and the ones on the floor left him a sizeable space for him to sit with a good distance between him and the rest.

The chains rattled with his movements and Chat Noir sat down on the floor, ignoring the other inmates and fixing his gaze on a spot in front of him.

His eyes caught the moving shadows of the steel bars and he tensed.

* * *

 

Alya stirred the two cups of coffee to dissolve the sugar before carrying them over to the couch, setting them both on the small table and sitting beside Marinette, who rubbed her head, “Want some painkillers?” her voice was soft as she gently rubbed her friend’s back, trying to silently offer support.

Marinette hummed, refraining from shaking her head to not worsen the pain, “He always goes for my head or throat.” She sighed and grabbed her mug, taking a sip of the warm sweetened concoction.

The reporter snorted, grabbing her own mug, “Just like a lion…or a rat.” Marinette sent her an admonishing glance, “What? It’s true. He deserves to rot away in some corner for what he did to you – a _second_ time – might I add.”

The policewoman sighed, staring down at her lap, “I don’t really blame him, he’s actually been…kind of alright here, there have been incidents here and there, but he was mostly okay compared to the impatient, aggressive criminals I dealt with before. I would almost call him civil if not for the concussion he nearly gave me.” She took another sip, hearing Alya huff.

“Tch, _alright_? Marinette, he almost killed you! _Twice!_ It’s Chat Noir we’re talking about, not some random every day criminal off the streets! This was his first time ever getting caught by the police, he’s dangerous! He screams bad news!” she gesticulated wildly with her arms, almost spilling coffee, before she quickly caught the drops of liquid sliding down the cup with her fingers.

The dark-haired woman groaned, rubbing her bandaged head, “I know, I know, I _know_ Alya. I’m just saying, if I were in his situation I’d feel trapped too and do anything to get out of here. He may not have the same moral code like we do, but he’s still human, maybe he used to be a good guy before entering the criminal scene.”

Alya fixed her with a look, snorting again, “Yeah, right and I’m a bank robber.” She set her cup down, grabbing her friend’s hands, “Marinette, I know you’re still shaken up about everything that happened, but you can’t go defending him like that. Have you seen _Luka_? I’ve never seen him so angry! That man was bursting at the seams of anger! Why did you go in-between them?! You know Chat Noir deserved a punch or two for doing this to you!”

Marinette stared at their joined hands, squeezing the reporter’s in return before looking fiercely into her eyes, “ _That’s_ the problem Alya, he _didn’t_ deserve any of that. Yes, he hurt me, but he…didn’t try to kill me. I already have a few years of experience under my belt, a criminal with a record, especially like Chat Noir’s, would fight me tooth and nail to kill me and _succeed_. If he’d fought whole groups, you don’t think he can beat _me_? He was restrained, but not even that would’ve stopped him from at least injuring me enough to go to the ER. He just wanted to incapacitate me to escape. Even when he held me down, he didn’t try to choke me, which would’ve done the job quickly. He also stopped as soon as he thought I fell unconscious, any other criminal would’ve continued until he felt no heartbeat.”

Alya grit her teeth, “Marinette, what are you s _aying_? You’ve been hit in the head, maybe you’re a bit confused. You can’t tell me my _police_ best friend Marinette is defending a _criminal_!”

The cop squeezed her eyes shut briefly at the pain shooting through her head, but Marinette soldiered on, “Two officers from our department harmed him during his recuperation in the infirmary, tell me Alya, which side would you choose? The officers who may have done something wrong but still represent ‘justice’ or the criminal that’s been wronged?”

The auburn haired female shook her head, taking a long sip of her coffee, “Look , Mari, I know what you’re trying to say but this is different!”

Marinette’s voice rose, her patience running thin, “ _Why?!”_

“Because you’re my friend!” Marinette fell silent at her outburst, watching tears gather at the corner’s of Alya’s eyes as she lifted her glasses and wiped at them stubbornly, “What would’ve happened had he seriously injured you? If you were stuck on that white bed? You don’t think I’d have sleepless weeks until I get the news you’re discharged? You don’t think me or Nino or Luka and the others will worry sick because a criminal hurt you?! Try to see it from my side girl! Of course I’m going to defend my friend sooner than some criminal that’s been wronged maybe twice in his whole no-good life!”

Marinette gathered the distressed woman in her arms, both friends clutching at each-other desperately like lifelines, bluebell eyes glazing over with fresh tears as she shook, holding onto Alya for comfort.

* * *

 

Kim and Ivan worriedly watched their superior’s nervous pacing within the four walls of his office, blinds pulled all the way down and door locked.

Luka’s strides were quick and short, chest heaving with quicker breaths as the colonel continued his mad pacing, usually calm aqua blue eyes now intense with rage.

They’d known him for a while and none of them have ever seen Luka in this state, so angry and impatient and short-tempered.

He looked the epitome of pissed off, rough-around-the-edges marine they’d only heard rumors about.

Ivan, Kim made a mental cheering dance for his sacrifice, finally voiced the question that’s been hanging between them since they were called in to Luka’s office, “Um, Colonel, why did you call for us?”

They were aware of the situation, the ruckus it caused couldn’t have been missed, _everyone_ was aware and Kim had just recently nearly socked another fellow officer who tried spreading rumors of some deranged ‘ _love triangle_ ’ gone exposed.

He was a fun-loving guy, but sometimes he hated humans.

Luka finally stopped his pacing, his hand resting on the back of his chair, nails digging into the worn leather, eyes livid with unadulterated fury, “Why weren’t you at your assigned positions in front of Marinette’s house?” his voice was calm, but the underlying anger couldn’t be ignored.

They were lucky if they escaped this room with all limbs attached.

Having staring contests with Chat Noir himself were more preferable than this.

Kim cleared his throat, trying not to cower at the intense glare he received, “Uh, we…w-well, Marinette sent us home. She said we should get rest for watching Chat Noir all night and told us she’d call if there was any trouble, he also didn’t seem to be in any bad mood-“

Luka’s fist slammed on the desk, the wood shaking from the force and a pen rolling to the floor, “ _Bad mood_? That asshole nearly killed her.” Both officers jumped at the action and stiffened like statues at their superior’s tone.

Ivan bowed, Kim following suit, “We’re sorry, colonel Couffaine, if you wish to execute punishment on us you may, we’ll accept any repercussions for getting Lieutenant Dupain-Cheng in danger.”

Seconds filled with unbearable silence ticked by and they didn’t dare lift their heads to see Luka’s expression, they waited with baited breath and buckling knees.

Finally, a heavy sigh, before Luka’s calmer, tired voice drifted through the office, “Straighten.”

They did, like robots, staring at the taller male like terrified children.

Luka ran a hand through his hair, the blue tips seeming vibrant against the darker contrast of his normal brunet hair color, “I apologize for my…outburst. You aren’t to blame for what happened, even if you’d been there, the outcome would’ve been largely the same or similar; with injured.” He ran a hand over his jaw, the slight stubble growing there a testament to how poor he’d been taking care of himself for the past week following the incidents with Chat Noir, “Furthermore, I would only ask you to keep an eye on Marinette, she still has injuries that need recovering and-“

The locked door suddenly shook violently, a panicked voice from outside alerting all three men in the room, “Colonel Couffaine! You have to come to the cells! There’s been an accident!”

Dread filled the men like ice in their veins and Luka quickly unlocked the door, slamming it open to see the pale face of a fellow officer, “We have to move quickly, there are many injured maybe even dead!”

Luka’s hand trembled in rage, squeezing the doorknob so tightly it threatened to break off its hinges, “ _What_ happened?”

* * *

 

Both women had calmed down from their emotional outbursts, drinking coffee together and rummaging through Marinette’s poor movie collection, “Girl, I swear you wouldn’t even own DVDs hadn’t I leant you most of them.” The two friends giggled and Marinette shook her head as much as she dared, ignoring the burst of pain it sent traveling along the side.

“Hey, it’s not like I have a lot of free time to watch them anyways. I have night shifts too.”

Alya grimaced and made her voice a pitch higher, “ _I have night shifts too.”_ It was a poor imitation of Marinette’s voice and the cop gently punched her in the arm, both women laughing at their childish antics.

“What was that? I don’t even _sound_ like that Alya!” they laughed like they hadn’t in a long while, enjoying the other’s presence, “It’s been a long time since we could relax like this, but are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?”

Alya waved her off, “Pff, of course. Besides, Marc is still my apprentice, if the boss says there needs to be something done, Marc can fill in for me, he owes me a few shifts anyway.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Marc? Why are you torturing the poor thing so much?”

The reporter slapped her own forearm, grinning, “Torturing? You mean _tutoring,_ that boy needs to learn the basics before he can become an accomplished reporter, much less the writer he wants to be!”

Marinette chuckled, shaking her head.

A sudden ringing in the room made both women pause, “Hey, isn’t that your phone?” Alya gestured to Marinette’s sleek black discarded phone resting on the kitchen table, vibrating with an incoming call.

Marinette rose an eyebrow, standing up and walking towards the table, grabbing her phone.

It was…Ivan?

Picking up, she held the phone to her ear, “Hello? What’s up Ivan?”

She heard noises in the background, shouts and loud thuds and Ivan’s distressed, loud voice coming through the other line.

His words made Marinette freeze on the spot.

“ _There’s a problem at the precinct.”_  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you all enjoyed it! :3 BTW: I’m sorry it’s so short, next chapter will be longer.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm sorry for being inactive lately, I have a new laptop now so updates should come faster (except if my flunctuating internet doesn't strike again).
> 
> I have to confess, I was conflicted with this chapter. Particularly the cell scene. The first version was Chat Noir beating everyone within an inch of their lives (bc they were child molesters, rapists…etc.), the second one was him being triggered and lashing out for being claustrophobic and feeling threatened. In the end, this one seemed better, since Chat Noir wouldn’t just attack anyone without good reason.
> 
> I hope it still turned out okay-ish!
> 
> WARNING: For mildly graphic violence ahead!

**Chapter 9**

“Hmm…maybe lower the pitch a bit.” Nino showed the younger male what he meant, moving the buttons to suit his needs as he listened carefully for the changes, replaying the track over and over, “Ah, see? It sounds better if the pitch drops here and starts back up after the chorus.”

The younger intern glanced up at the more experienced DJ and grinned, nodding, “Thank you sir!”

Nino grinned and fist bumped his shoulder playfully, “No problem dude! And I told you there are no ‘sirs’ here!” he winked before exiting the studio, walking down the hallway towards the vending machine.

As he threw in a few coins and watched the metal string slowly pull away from the water bottle, he heard a faint melody from one of the other recording rooms.

It was a sad tune, slow, played from a piano.

Nino didn’t know why, but it strangely reminded him of Chat Noir.

He thought back to the encounter he had with the criminal in Marinette’s apartment.

He was standing before one of the deadliest criminals in his country, he should’ve felt terrified.

But all he’d felt was annoyance when the man kept hissing and trying to evade the showerhead like a demon avoided holy water whenever Nino tried spraying him with water, “ _Dude!_ Calm down it’s just water!” he tried aiming it differently and finally got him when Chat Noir was literally cornered against the side of the bathtub, the mask still planted firmly on his wet face as the water droplets cascaded down his cheeks and jaw, Nino’s hands furiously scrubbing the messy blond hair while wedging the shower hose between his legs.

“It’s fucking cold water!” it was the first time he heard the criminal cuss and Nino would’ve laughed had he not been so busy trying to scrub behind the ears.

Thank his headstrong, sweet mother.

Chat Noir hissed again and Nino knew then and there.

He never wanted a cat after that.

But his second encounter with the criminal made him think, after Marinette had called in a frantic panic to dress him.

When the DJ had grabbed a, in his opinion strange shirt from the pile of clothes strewn on the bed, Chat Noir had stopped him and said, “Can you give me the black one? I don’t want to make the lady uncomfortable.”

Lady.

He had called Marinette _lady._

While he wasn’t a policeman, he had heard his fair share of rude words used to describe the police, particularly female officers. Even his fellow rappers and DJ men, to his disgust, used the terms in their songs. He was sad to say most of them were told to Marinette at one point or another in her career. He wished he could stop them, but he knew better.

But he rarely heard a criminal address the cop that busted his ass so politely.

The grim look about Chat Noir hadn’t helped at all. With his chained feet and hands and matted down hair from the water, he looked more like a victim than a criminal.

Maybe Nino’s eyes had been playing tricks on him, but he swore he saw something like guilt in those distracted, green eyes.

A sudden slam made Nino jump and when he looked down, he realized the bottle had finally fallen to the flap entrance.

He bent down, taking it out and grabbing his change, heading back to the studio.

The sad tune was still ringing in his ears, with Chat Noir’s sad green eyes in the forefront of his mind.

\--

“Girl, hey! Easy, take it easy!” Alya quickly supported her friend, who nearly fell to the floor in her haste to grab her jacket and duty gun, “You can’t go over there! You’re hurt!”

Marinette gently pushed against Alya’s arm, her other hand supporting her weight against the nearby wall, “Alya, I have to! Something happened in the cell housing Chat Noir and I need to see what.”

The reporter grabbed her friend’s shoulders, staring into her eyes, “What if you-“

Marinette’s bluebell gaze was as fierce as ever, “I _won’t_. I promise Alya, I won’t get hurt!” her voice softened slightly, but the undeniably edge in her eyes still burned brightly, hotter than the sun, sharper than a blade, “I’m going over there to see what’s wrong, you can come with me if you’re worried or stay here and wait for me to come back.”

It didn’t take long for Alya to decide, she knew how stubborn her friend could be once her mind was set. She helped her dress in her uniform jacket and strap the gun to her hip, wrapping an arm around her waist and slinging Marinette’s arm over her shoulders and together, the two women walked towards the car.

\--

The room suddenly seemed a lot smaller, as if the walls were closing in. The shadows of the steel bars barring his freedom reflected on the empty walls, a small window with the same steel bars adorned was located high up on the wall.

Chat Noir felt his hands shaking, the fury rising in his chest.

The vertical shadows of the bars reminded him of old memories, memories of splintered doors and worn wooden floors, of dirty windows and tall gates.

His body trembled violently.

Some of the men shifted uneasily, not knowing whether to intervene or not until only one hesitantly, with shaking feet, slowly approached Chat Noir, as if approaching a wild animal, “Uhm…h-hey, C-Chat Noir, sir, a-are-are-“

Chains rattled loudly as hands pushed against the man’s chest, the criminal falling against his inmate behind him in fright.

Chat Noir’s green gaze seemed toxic, like the eyes of a predator giving a warning glare at his opponent before ripping them into shreds, his voice dripping with poison, “Stay _away_.”

The inmates, despite being criminals, knew better than to square up against Chat Noir of all people in the world, they froze like statues, not moving a muscle as they watched, petrified, how Chat Noir’s body trembled violently, nails digging into his shaky forearms, the chains brushing against the cold floor rhythmically.

Until a shadow passed over the steel bars and the sounds of keys cut through the tense atmosphere, “Well, what do we have here, a captured little kitten.”

Another voice, a familiar one, “Look, he’s even injured, makes me wonder what hurt such an animal, perhaps the Lieutenant?”

The first voice replied, all too familiar to Chat Noir’s ears, “Oh, I’m sure, why don’t we finish the job, hm?” the clicking of something metallic made Chat Noir’s eyes widen and his trembling stilled.

The door to the cell opened eerily loud, none of the occupants in the small space moving a single muscle, as the dark metal of the gun barrel pointed straight at Chat Noir’s lowly bowed head.

A snide smile stretched the former policeman’s lips, eyes alight with satisfaction as he released the safety on his gun, “Makes me glad I kept the keys and gun, otherwise we wouldn’t even have this opportunity.”

His colleague snickered, until a voice from the back called out, “H-Hey! What did he do to you?! He’s injured for fucks sake!” the gun lifted abruptly and wide, terrified eyes stared at the pitch blackness of the gun barrel.

“Scum like you don’t get to _talk_!”

A click and the man’s finger pulled the trigger, an ear splitting shot echoing in the tiny cell and freezing everyone in their tracks.

_Bang!_

Time seemed to stand still, at least in the cell.

And then a bloodcurdling scream.

 “ _Arghh!”_

Movement, frenzied and uncoordinated broke the spell and mayhem erupted within the four walls. Shouts and angry grunts followed, several bodies moving in disarray as three figures at the entrance of the cell door wrestled with each-other, “Fucking damn it get him off me! My eyes!!”

“He-Hey!” a stunned voice echoed from somewhere farther into the corridor, “We need help! Prisoners trying to break out! Call everyone in!” the voice of a distant police guard rang loudly through the echoing hallway.

A blaring noise rang over their heads, signaling the outbreak of a calamity, a calamity far greater to come than any of the officers upstairs are aware.

Chat Noir’s elbow slammed itself against the stomach of the second man with the gun, knocking the breath straight out of him. His uninjured leg swung out and delivered a powerful kick to the first corrupt cop, followed quickly by a rough shoulder thrust to daze him. A hand grabbed at his shirt, the material ripping from the force of Chat Noir twisting out of the way with a sharp hiss.

Pain, pain was all Chat Noir registered, but he also felt anger, insurmountable anger for the audacity of these men, barging into the cell and threatening not only him, but an innocent bystander, who had tried defending him.

He would _not_ show mercy.

Years of honing his skills made him duck in time before the fist could connect with his head, surging forward to deliver two quick jabs to the first idiot’s ribs before delivering an uppercut to the jaw.

It was after the former police officer with the gun was slammed against a wall that the commotion stilled.

A hand was curled around the man’s throat, fingers digging into the frantically beating pulse as Chat Noir’s furious green eyes stared the man down, sheer fear reflected in the man’s wide blown eyes.

Chat Noir felt intense pressure applied to his still injured leg, crawling sensations running up and down the length as if a colony of fire ants danced on it but he ignored the searing pain. His fist only tightened around the asshole’s throat, a bloodthirsty grin curling his lips as he tilted his head to the side, “You want to shoot, did you? You wanted to _kill_ him?”

Eyes the color of poison and seemingly the shape of a serpent, narrowing into dangerous slits that robbed the man of his breath as his heart pounded violently in his ribcage when the iron hold around his neck constricted further.

The inmates in the background were all clutching at their petrified friend sitting on the floor, eyes wide and uncomprehending, locked onto the commotion in front of him. The bullet had missed its mark, his head, by inches, due to Chat Noir moving before his opponent did and shoving the gun just when the shot was fired.

Chat Noir had saved his life.

Sickening gurgling sounds echoed in the cell and the other former police officer’s distressed voice accompanied them, “Fucking damn let go you scoundrel! Let him go!! You’ll kill him!” hands were trying to pull Chat Noir away, a booted leg hysterically stomping down on Chat Noir’s bandaged leg, but the blond did not budge.

Instincts screamed at him to do something, to _fight_ , to push the source of his pain _away_ but the absolutely mortified expression of the man in front of him kept him grounded, he didn’t even feel the burning from the frantic clawing at his arm anymore. Rivulets of blood trickled down the expanse of his arm, it had burned at first, but Chat Noir’s attention zeroed in on the panting man, memories of him bruising his leg in the infirmary burning brightly in the forefront of his mind.

All he saw was the violent trembling of the man’s body, the drool running down the corner of his mouth in rivulets.

The gunshot flashed in Chat Noir’s mind, how it almost hit the innocent inmate who tried defending him. He tightened his grip again like a constricting vice and he angled his fingers directly over the bobbing jugular, preparing to finish it quickly.

Until Chat Noir felt the cold press of metal against the back of his head, shaky but insistent, the release of the safety clicking directly behind his ears, “I’ll fucking s-shoot you if you don’t let go!”

His body stilled, anger increasing tenfold at the threat, mind calculating the best time to move and angle his body so the fired bullet would hit the idiot he was choking. His leg was still screaming in pain, but he would bite his cheek to curb it and fight. He would not let himself get kicked around like an animal.

Not again. Not here.

He would _fight._

The blood rushed loudly in his ears, like the crashing waves of the sea.

All he felt was his rapidly beating heart and the white hot rage boiling deep in his chest like molten lava.

His body tensed, preparing to maneuver around and disable his next threat. Chat Noir released his choke hold and pressed his foot against the ground, preparing to move.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Chat Noir froze, his back was to the new voice that entered the chaos in the cell, but from weeks of being captured, he’d memorized it well.

The corrupt former cop turned around slowly, the gun pointed at Chat Noir lowering only for his face to be struck harshly with the back of the gun and a pair of angry bluebell eyes staring him down, “ _I’m_ the lieutenant that reported you and that’s _my_ stupid cat you’re trying to shoot.” Marinette released the safety on her gun, eyes never once straying from the two men, one who was now released from Chat Noir’s clutches and breathing heavily against the wall.

Chat Noir panted from the exertion from the fight, green eyes never once moving from the female, dressed in what looked like clothes she wore at home, only donning the blue, unbuttoned jacket of her uniform as proof of her status.

Keeping her gun aimed steadily at the two injured men, Marinette’s gaze briefly moved to the inmates huddled in the far back, “Are you alright?”

Everyone mutely nodded, except the one whom the gun had been pointed at earlier, he shakily stood up from his crouched position, “H-He saved my life…Chat Noir.”

Marinette’s eyes flew open, looking down at the criminal in question, whose surprised face was seemingly set in stone.

 _‘Chat Noir…had saved his life?’_ the woman’s mind was racing, her hands clammy and trembling when the rapid bursts of pain kept shooting up her sides, the bandages around her midsection feeling far too tight.

Her body felt weightless and her legs shook, feet skidding across the floor unsteadily.  

An arm, with a broken chain attached at the wrist, kept her from falling, wrapped around her shoulders securely. Marinette’s fluttering eyes flew open and her body tensed instinctively, as if preparing for a physical blow.

It never came.

She heard Chat Noir’s voice whisper close to her ear and a solid warmth that surrounded her all around, “Thank you, princess.” Her vision was filled with gold blond hair, messy from the fight.

She wanted to argue, she could feel the beginning sparks of annoyance flare within her at the derogatory pet name, but she didn’t have the strength to correct him.

It was Luka’s voice that ripped her from the shock she was in, “What do you think you’re doing to her?”

They broke apart, Chat Noir’s arm was still around her shoulders to keep her upright, while her hand was resting on his shoulder, feeling the pulsating warmth beneath the shirt.

Marinette could see the range of emotions crossing Luka’s face, most notably anger and a look of betrayal, “Luka, wait-“

“Handcuff him.” Two lower ranked police officers moved pass Luka’s broader frame towards Chat Noir, but Marinette resolutely stepped in front of him, still feeling a bit dizzy, “Lieutenant Dupain-Cheng, I ask you to move.”

The look she sent him could topple mountains, “And I _refuse_ , Colonel Couffaine.” Aqua eyes narrowed suspiciously at her tone, but Marinette held her ground, motioning towards the two former cops on the ground, “These men are the same officers I had reported for abusing Chat Noir during his recuperation, they had stolen the keys to the cell and kept their duty guns to shoot Chat Noir. They’d also tried killing the inmates within this cell, had Chat Noir not intervened.”

Luka remained quiet, the two officers standing in front of Marinette nervously looking at each-other, not knowing how to act.

The colonel cleared his throat, stepping forward himself, “Without any solid proofs, I’m afraid you’re overstepping your boundaries.”

“Check the video footage of the cameras if you don’t believe me, there are also several inmates here as valuable eyewitnesses. When I arrived on the scene this man held Chat Noir at gunpoint.” She pointed to the man she’d backhanded, sporting a bloody lip now, “If you punish Chat Noir then you’ll have to punish me as well.”

Luka moved even closer to Marinette, but Chat Noir himself limped forward in-between them, head bowed so he didn’t meet the man’s eyes directly, “I accept.” He shifted his feet, favoring his injured side, “I accept sole punishment for acting out of line in confinement.”

When he lifted his head, his eyes held a fire in them, an expression that meant he still held life in him, still had the will to _fight_.

Luka held his stare, trying to determine whether to trust his words.

_I didn’t steal anything from you, marine._

Words uttered so long ago came flooding back to him and Luka sighed, breaking off his staring contest with Chat Noir. Instead, he motioned towards the two officers to move.

Marinette was about to wedge herself in front of Chat Noir again, but the two policemen bypassed the criminal in favor of picking up the groaning heaps on the floor, dragging the two former officers away for questioning or isolated confinement.

Marinette stared at her superior, who cleared his throat and looked at the still cowering bunch of inmates, “Any of you injured?”

All shook their heads in the negative and Luka sighed, “Good. If any of you want to testify, ask one of the guards to accompany you upstairs, our reporter will record your reports.” Luka closed and locked the cell door again, sharing a look with Chat Noir, “As for you, get upstairs, your wounds reopened.”

Chat Noir hadn’t even registered the warm wetness trickling down his leg was blood from his reopened injury. He did however register the arm suddenly wrapping around his waist, slinging his other arm around thin shoulders.

It was the lady cop.

“You’re limping, let me escort you upstairs.”

Chat Noir tried moving away from the woman, noticing the former marine’s frown from the corner of his eye, “You’re injured yourself, I’m-“

“-My criminal and you’re injured. It’s my duty to keep an eye on you.” With renewed vigor, Marinette firmly wrapped her arm around Chat Noir and grabbing his arm, resolutely glaring up at him with those fierce, bluebell eyes.

She wasn’t the woman he’d hurt, now she was the fierce cop that had detained him and her glare left no room for objection.

With a sigh, Chat Noir allowed himself to slightly lean against the shorter woman, noting her firm stance despite her injuries and smaller stature effortlessly supporting his greater weight and size. He noted the smallest grimace of pain and carefully adjusted himself, leaning his weight away from her body and supporting his own, refusing to further injure the woman who’d just saved his life.

As they were making their slow way out of the cell rooms, the inmate from before quickly walked to the cell door, “Chat Noir sir! Thank you!”

Luka had stopped in front of the entrance to the door, as did Chat Noir and Marinette.

The criminal allowed a small smile to grace his lips, “Of course, kitten.” With that, they resumed their slow walk, Luka’s hand tightening its grip against the doorframe before he made way for the two limping individuals.

When he closed and locked the door again, Luka was sure he would have the expression on the inmate’s face on his mind for some time.

It was one of gratefulness.

\--

_A few hours later…_

“Lieutenant Dupain-Cheng, come into my office for a minute.” Luka’s voice made Marinette turn her head, internally sighing before she set aside her paperwork and stood from her chair, walking towards him.

He held the door open for her and stepped aside, waiting until she was inside before locking the door and pulling down the blinds.

Marinette waited patiently, standing in front of the vacant chair in front of Luka’s desk, before the man himself walked around his desk and sat down, gesturing for the woman to follow.

“I rather stand, thank you.”

Another deep sigh and Luka shook his head, “What you did today was beyond reckless. You should’ve stayed at home , who even informed you of the situation?”

Marinette hesitated, not willing to expose her friend and get him in trouble but the calculating look in Luka’s eyes cleared with understanding, “Ah, it was Ivan, right?”

At her tense expression, Luka waved his hand, “Relax Marinette, I won’t do anything to him, _he_ wasn’t stupid enough to tell you to come here, he just informed you of what was happening. The decision to come here was still yours and it was _stupid_.” At the blunt lecturing from Luka, Marinette sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Her gaze was downcast, contemplating the right words to use next, “You…would’ve done the same Luka. He was my criminal, I had a duty to keep an eye on him, letting him get killed inside the cell within our very own precinct, by two former police officers that worked for us would’ve been disastrous and you know it. The press would’ve eaten us up for breakfast.”

The former marine rose an eyebrow, folding his hands, “But you never cared for the press.” He waited a beat or two but Marinette didn’t reply, “Marinette, why did you come?”

When she looked at him again, he was reminded of why Marinette was one of the best on his team, the fierce look in her eyes even sent shivers down his spine, “I did my job when I came here and I did it well. A person’s life was endangered, due to my incompetence as a policewoman. Chat Noir acted like any criminal would, the blame is on me.”

Another sigh, “Chat Noir is no ordinary criminal, he needs to be supervised under the highest security measures.”

“Despite his criminal status, he is still a human, have you heard the doctor’s report?”

Surprise filled the colonel and he shook his head, he’d forgotten about that due to the onslaught of testimonies coming in from the inmates.

“Chat Noir had apparently suffered a panic attack prior to being antagonized by the two former cops, he’d naturally lashed out when he was threatened and according to an inmate reacted aggressively to save his life, he’d shown no aggressive behavior until one of the men pulled out his gun.” Marinette’s tone was crisp and clear, as if she’d memorized the entire medical report by heart.

“…I see.” That changed things, as much as Luka disliked to confess this, even to himself, Chat Noir had little going against him, “So he was…claustrophobic?”

Surprised eyes blinked at him, “Y-Yes, how…did you know?”

_Sorry marine, but I don’t like to be stuck in tight places, I’ll sit this round out!_

Another memory, oh so long ago resurfaced freshly in his mind but Luka dismissed it, even if the words spoken years ago finally made sense now. He would have time for that later.

“Call it an educated guess.” He leaned back against his chair, “Where is Chat Noir now?”

She shifted her weight, as if the question made her uncomfortable, “Recovering in the infirmary, the doctor said he should be good to go tonight.”

The man stood up to his full height, rolling his shoulders and fixing Marinette with a saddened expression, “Marinette, how are you feeling?”

The woman caught herself, not expecting the sudden question, before she cleared her throat, “Fine, thank you sir.”

“Drop it.” Luka’s tone softened, a hand moving to the back of his neck, “Drop the formalities, it’s just us in here.”

The dark-haired woman shifted her feet again and finally slumped her shoulders, “I feel tired actually. Really tired.”

Luka hummed in understanding, walking around his desk to stand directly in front of Marinette, “How many times do I have to tell you not to be so reckless?” he gently grabbed her shoulders and squeezed, “The doctor told me you shouldn’t move, your ribs are swollen and you need rest.”

Her eyes briefly roamed around the room before they nervously lifted up to meet his, “I-I know, I was just…on edge, from everything that happened. The fight, Chat Noir being sent to the cell and…”

Luka rose an eyebrow, “…And?”

Carefully, Marinette retrieved a small slip of paper from the inside of her jacket, folded over four times and handed it to Luka.

It was Alya’s script from what he could recognize and the information on it sent a shock through his system, “Where did you get this?”

“Alya gave it to me, she met up with Kim and Alix this morning, Alix sent a report of her own team about the crime scene.” She pointed to a paragraph on the second paper, “This is from Juleka, she wrote down her first findings but expect a report from her tomorrow.” Luka nodded attentively, recognizing his sister’s handwriting, he would expect the first details tonight when he got home from her surely.

“So…Chat Noir was set up?” he met Marinette’s gaze, who looked conflicted herself.

“…Apparently so. It…kind of made sense.” She played with a strand of her hair before firmly wedging it behind her ear.

“Really? Why?” Luka leaned back against his desk, eyes transfixed on the words written on the paper.

“It’s not his usual M.O. He didn’t leave a claw mark like he left one every time. The killed prostitutes and children had signs of physical abuse.” She rubbed her arm, biting her lip uncomfortably, “We never had any recordings on Chat Noir nor any gang directly associated with him harming children before, women were a rarity, if there had been any on his hit list, they were long standing criminals usually drug dealers or contract killers.”

“You’re saying the cat has a soft spot for kids and women?” Luka sounded skeptical but his eyes didn’t look the same, they shone with understanding, as if deep down, he knew that information himself but didn’t want to believe it.

Marinette curled her fingers into a fist, trying to refrain herself from grilling for answers. The day had been rough on everyone, they all needed sleep. She would get answers as soon as Luka was ready to deliver.

She would wait.

If there was one thing she had learned exceptionally well during her police training, it was biding her time.

And waiting for an opportunity to strike.

\--

The car ride home was quiet for now, it was only about halfway home when the quiet criminal sitting beside her on the passenger’s seat began to speak since she’d helped him get inside her car, “Did Couffaine authorize this?”

A small smile crossed Marinette’s lips, her mood surprisingly… _good_ , “I authorized it myself, since I’m able to do that.”

The silence settled between them again, only to be broken by Chat Noir a few minutes after, “You…” he cleared his throat and Marinette listened attentively, eyes still on the road but her ears all to him, “You…didn’t have to do that, in the cell today.” He turned his head away, face towards the window, “You shouldn’t have come.”

There was a sharp turn coming up but instead of turning, Marinette slammed her heel on the brakes, the car stopping suddenly and throwing Chat Noir forward, only stopped by the seatbelt strapped across his chest.

He hissed at the pain the impact brought and whirled his head around to look at her, “What was that-“

“Of course I had to. It was my duty.” Her eyes looked the same like they had in the cell, fierce, ready to fight, like a lioness protecting her pride.

The criminal’s lips formed into a thin line, “Tell me something lieutenant, are you doing this solely for your occupational responsibility?” he watched her carefully, watching the emotions play across her face in the darkness of the night and small light the car provided, “…Or is there something more fueling your motivations?” he waited, eyes locked onto her form, eager to hear her answer.

Surprisingly, it came quick, “You’re the criminal I apprehended, therefore it’s my responsibility to keep you safe until-“

“Bullshit.” Chat Noir’s sudden swearing made Marinette stop, staring at him with widened eyes, “You know as well as me that any other cop would’ve stayed at home despite receiving a call. They wouldn’t care. In fact, it would get a load off their hands, not bothering to babysit a troublemaker and go on with their comfortable desk work.” His eyes briefly strayed to the street outside, but returned back towards her, “But…you still came.”

She stayed silent, eyes downcast, partly covered by strands of her hair.

Chat Noir thought she wouldn’t say anything more but he was startled when she lifted her head back to look straight at him, her voice clear and resolute, “Of course I did. You’re still a human beneath that mask.” The black mask still covering his face felt like it was made of lead, so heavy it was protecting his identity, “Whether you want to admit it or not, nobody deserves to be killed, especially not someone who was chained and injured.”

“I’m a criminal.” He threw that into the room like a brick wall, a very true brick wall.

“I know that.” The look in her eyes told him she would never forget either, “Criminals are humans too. I confess, some of them out there are irredeemable, but others are not so bad. The word ‘criminal’ just means you did something that was against the law, you could be a murderer or just a person who piled up too many tickets. It’s not words that make people into who they are, it’s their actions.” She smiled, as if firmly believing in the words she was uttering and Chat Noir scoffed lightly, surprised but secretly touched at her answer.

He thought the discussion was over now, but she surprised him again with her following words, “There’s a saying about how villains came to be.” She paused, as if remembering the exact phrase and Chat Noir listened, “They used to be princesses and princes who were failed to be saved, but they used to be good.” The engine started again and the car hummed with life, moving back on the road.

Chat Noir sent her a side glance, “I’m _impurrssed_ , didn’t take you for someone that was into romance.”

Her voice was soft when she replied, “Well, I never took myself for someone saving a criminal either.”

This time, a small smile curled Chat Noir’s lips and he hid it with his fist propped against his chin.

\--

_At Marinette’s residence, preparing for bed_

She watched him from the kitchen, drinking a glass of milk, watching how Chat Noir winced imperceptibly when he bent down to pick up a loose shirt for PJ’s.

Marinette winced in sympathy, pressing her hand against the thick compression band still wrapped around her ribs. It would be heavenly once she took it off for the night, as the doctor ordered.

She set aside her cup and cautiously walked towards the man, hearing him curse softly beneath his breath, “Need some help?” she waited until he answered and his face twisted into a grimace of pain and discomfort.

“I’m fine.” The policewoman scoffed, taking the shirt out of his loose grip, “Hey!” annoyed green eyes met her defiant bluebell stare and Marinette rested a hand on her hip.

“I’m not one for overstepping boundaries, but you’re hurt.”

Chat Noir tried grabbing the garment from her hands but she only pulled it away, “I can dress myself.”

She sighed, gathering her courage, “It’s late and I don’t want to wake up Nino, it’s just the shirt, please let me help you just this once.”

It were several minutes of tense silence, until Chat Noir heaved a great sigh, the mental war he’d had with himself obviously lost and carefully raised his arms in the air, pointedly looking up and away from her.

Marinette blinked, before she shook her head, not expecting to get consent so quickly. Nevertheless, she threw the fresh shirt over her shoulder before slowly grabbing the edges of Chat Noir’s tattered black shirt, as if the attire would burn her. Giving herself a quick, mental pep talk, Marinette began lifting the shirt slowly over Chat Noir’s torso, bare skin covered in bandages exposed to the dim light of the kitchen.

When she got the shirt over his head, Marinette’s eyes were a bit shiny, her heart heavy at the horrid sight before her.

Chat Noir’s torso was littered in bruises and scars, mostly wrapped in bandages.

A purplish-red bruise was peeking from under a thick bandage wrapped around his waist, scars and scratches of varying sizes littered on patches of skin not covered by the white fabric. His arms were wrapped in bandages as well. He looked like he’d been in a warzone.

“Are you done staring?” his clip, sharp tone suggested he wasn’t comfortable at all, nor very amused.

Seconds ticked by where none of them moved a muscle, the rhythmic ticking of the clock their only companion to the shared silence between them.

Marinette swallowed thickly and before she could stop herself, before her brain caught up with her actions, her hand rested lightly in the middle of Chat Noir’s bandaged chest, the skin beneath her palm warm and jumping slightly, as if frightened at the unexpected touch.

Chat Noir himself stood petrified, eyes never once leaving her face, throat dry, palms sweaty, trying to make sense of the very unexpected situation.

He didn’t dare move, waiting with baited breath on what she would do next.

Her voice came out in a soft, apologetic whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

Fingers curled slightly into the fabric of the bandages but otherwise she made no other move and Chat Noir swallowed, stomach quivering until he took a deep breath, the warmth from her hand seeping into him, the spot feeling entirely too warm, “You’re-“

She drew back unexpectedly, wide eyes and jerky movements, hand curled protectively against her chest, like a frightened deer, “I-I apologize!” her voice was higher and louder, as if she’d only now realized what she’d done.

The blond man took a step forward, trying to explain she hadn’t offended him, but she was already holding the new shirt up and waiting for him to bend down so she could get it over his head.

Semi-grateful for the silent agreement of not, for now, bringing the…the _moment_ up, Chat Noir bent slightly, hissing through clenched teeth at the pain that shot down his spine and through the rest of his torso.

Marinette worked quickly but gently, helping pulling the shirt over his head and carefully pulling his arms into the sleeves, straightening the shirt before quickly removing her hands and turning on her heel, pretending to drain her already empty cup of milk, with her back turned to him.

Chat Noir felt a little awkward, shifting his weight from foot to foot and rubbing his neck, still trying to process the…the… _moment_ from before.

Was it even a moment? Had he hallucinated? That doctor did give him painkillers, painkillers which he felt were beginning to wear off rapidly, if the stinging on his wounds was any indication.

He wished he could’ve clawed those idiots faces in, if only he’d had his equipment with him, he wouldn’t have been hurt like he had.

Shaking his head, Chat Noir turned around, silently thankful that the lady cop already made the bed for him before a thought hit him.

Clearing his throat, Chat Noir sensed eyes on his back, clearly having her attention, before he finally got the words clearly out of his mouth, “…Good night.”

He waited for a beat, maybe two, trying to pretend he wasn’t waiting for her answer by rearranging the blanket, trying to ignore the small bursts of pain rushing through him like trails of fire, until soft but hurried footsteps rushed past him.

“Good night!” It was a sound he remembered hearing from small girls playing together or women trying to sound coy in front of men they fancied.

Did…did the lady cop just… _squeak?_

Chat Noir whipped his head around, but she was already gone, the door to her bedroom nearly slamming open, the lock setting into place.

He blinked, once, twice, before shaking his head.

Maybe he’d imagine the sound.

He couldn’t imagine a tough woman like her making such a sound.

Trying to mentally calm down from everything that had happened today, Chat Noir switched off the lights and slowly settled down into the couch, mindful of his wounds.

Was the padding softer? He remembered the surface of the couch being slightly tougher, but for some reason it felt softer now.

His imagination, most likely.

Setting his arms on either side of him, Chat Noir stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim his tired body.

It was only after hours of failed attempts at falling asleep, that Chat Noir heard a noise outside.

It sounded like a twig, or the rustling of leaves, but to his trained hearing, the sound wasn’t anything accidental.

His eyes were good enough to recognize a shape casting a shadow against the windows. And when he carefully rose from his bed and walked towards the windows, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Chat Noir! My lord, it is you! I’ve finally found you!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! Any thoughts on this chapter? :3


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Chat Noir stood still, expression guarded as he mustered the man outside curiously.

With his hands only handcuffed with the flimsy standard issued cuffs, he easily bent his fingers and wiggled his hand out of one, the rest of the chain dangling from his other wrist as he slowly unlocked the French double windows. He was silently thankful Tweedle-dee and Tweedledum had forgotten to lock the other side as he stepped outside.

The air was cool and crisp, the night pitch black, telling him it was well past midnight.

The man was short and well-dressed, fitting clothes that looked just a little too expensive sat on his mildly rounded frame. Chat Noir usually tried refraining from passing judgement onto others, but the man didn’t look the part of a first-class thief to be able to steal such expensive clothes, much less posses the stealth needed to accomplish such a feat.

His gaze narrowed suspiciously, “Who are you?” moving closer, nose moving imperceptibly to discreetly take a whiff of the man, “You’re not one of my own.”

The man fumbled nervously, “W-why of course I am my lord! I’m a new recruit y-you see!” he smiled amicably, bowing respectfully, “Please my lord, we mustn’t waste time, you must get to our lair, I’ll personally finish off-“

Green eyes narrowed further, lips stretching to reveal an angry snarl, “You’re _not_ a kitten.” Chat Noir moved slowly, gracefully despite his injuries, not willing to show any hint of pain or discomfort on his face, circling around the man like a predator did to prey.

He leaned forward, smelling the nervous sweat accumulating at the man’s nape, “You’re a _rat_.” He ran a hand over the by now trembling man’s neck, fingers tightening slightly in warning, eyeing him critically before he took another look at his wardrobe and the strange scent that messed with him, “No…you’re not a rat. You’re…” He took a deeper sniff of the man’s strange scent.

Mixed with shampoo and sweat was an underlying scent he couldn’t have washed off no matter how often he tried scrubbing it out of his skin.

_Ammonia_

A hand roughly seized the man by the throat, another harshly applying pressure to the man’s solar plexus, above the stomach but just below his chest.

“-a _fox.”_

The man recoiled in fright, eyes blown wide and hands pushing against Chat Noir’s shoulders violently, but the criminal planted his foot firmly on the man’s own, slamming his hand with the chain dangling from it on the shorter man’s mouth to muffle his scream of pain.

Chat Noir moved closer, whispering into the panting man’s ear. “Let’s have a little _chat_ , shall we? Did the Rossi-Vanetti’s send you hmm, little fox cub?”

At the man’s silent, trembling form, Chat Noir’s fingers dug deeper into his chubby flesh and the man heaved. “I suggest you cry me a little tune, otherwise I’ll notify the cop sleeping inside. She’s not one to be trifled with, cross her and you’ll have to fear more than just me knocking the breath from your lungs.” The hand curled around the man’s throat tightened and pulled back sharply. “Talk little fox cub, _now_.”

The criminal waited several beats for the man’s heartbeat to slow down. “Scream and you’ll have more than vomit splashing onto your polished shoes.” The threat was clear and real, Chat Noir’s hand traveling from the panting mouth to the man’s neck, thumb pressing harshly beneath his chin and pushing his head back uncomfortably.

The man was hyperventilating, eyes haphazardly moving from the house to Chat Noir’s toxic green eyes, the black mask surrounding them giving them an odd glow. “M-M-Mistress, M-Mistress sent me! P-Please, I-I-I haa-am a new recruit, I d-don’t know- a-anything! I was sent, sent to, to bring you to her! That-that’s all, please! Please sir!”

Chat Noir didn’t budge, eyebrow raising in question. “Why pretend to be a part of my group? Did the _puttana_ order you to?”

At the mention of his mistress in such a derogatory term, a brief flash of anger flickered across the man’s eyes, but Chat Noir effortlessly curbed it by pressing his fingers sharply on the man’s rapid pulse point. A whimper escaped the man and his body was wracked with shivers. “You’re disposable wares, little cub, your mistress doesn’t much care for your life if she sent you here to _me_.”

The man huffed, eyes moving rapidly to try and determine what to do next until Chat Noir’s warning glare made him rethink his decision. “S-Sir, please, pp-please sir, I beg of you, I-I don’t, don’t know I swear!”

“I have a _purrpostion_ for you, little fox cub.” At Chat Noir’s sneer, the man cowered into himself, body trembling violently. “I’ll send you back to your mistress, with a little _message_.”

The man’s eyes flew open in unadulterated terror. “ _Merda!”_

* * *

 

_A few unsettling minutes later…_

After Chat Noir watched his struggling figure vanish into the empty roads ahead, he turned back around, voice low. “I still got things to do here…” he cleaned his bloody fist against the already red bandage on his torso. “So, _don’t_ interrupt me.”

The night fell quiet again, only the occasional, distant whines from the man and the chirps of birds disturbing it, but the noise died down as soon as Chat Noir closed and locked the windows again.

He’d just settled back into the covers in his original position when the clicking of a lock sounded and Chat Noir quickly pushed his hand through the other handcuff and waited, with baited breath and impossibly still. Listening in for the soft footsteps padding against the floorboards to the living room where he slept.

It was the lady cop.

From what little he could recognize her silhouette, her head turned to his general direction. He didn’t dare move a muscle, he barely breathed, mentally panicking she might have heard the conflict outside.

Her soft voice reached his hyper alarmed ears, it sounded loud in the quietness of the room. “Chat Noir?”

He waited a few beats, not sure if he should respond. “Are you awake? I heard groaning.”

He laid as still as a statue, eyes following her every move as she carefully advanced towards his form, far away enough to grant him space, but close enough that he felt the warmth of her body as she sat down at the edge of the bed. “Are you in pain?”  

She’d heard a few muffled groans from her room, she’d nearly bolted out of her bed, before remembering Chat Noir might react very negatively if she intruded upon him like this, in the middle of the night.

She’d only pondered it for a second, not being able to bare listening how he was suffering from the pain.

She was anxiously sitting at the edge of the couch, close to his legs, as close as she dared and allowed herself to be.

Chat Noir finally responded to her questions with a fake sleepy, husky voice. “Nrghh…did I wake you up?”

She shook her head, even if he couldn’t see it. “No, do you need painkillers? I have strong ones in the cupboard.” She was already standing before Chat Noir could even answer, navigating through the dark to try and reach the kitchen.

“Yes…thanks.” She hummed in acknowledgement, mildly aware of how many times the man had thanked her in the time they’d forcibly lived together.

He heard the rustling of boxes, then foil, she’d obviously found the medication and started unpacking it.

He winced when there was light, thankfully very low and he realized she’d adjusted the small lights over the sink to dim, so it didn’t hurt too much on the eyes but bright enough to see her surroundings clearly.

He blinked and watched her walk towards him slowly with something cupped in her hand and a glass of water in the other.

She was dressed in her PJ’s, attire he was seeing for the first time, a pink loose T-Shirt and comfortable white-pinkish boxer shorts that reached a little over her knees, above toned legs.

There obviously were still some police officers who worked out, at least if her figure was anything to go by.

He snorted, and quickly tried covering it with a cough, trying to pass it off as reacting to the pain.

When she settled on the couch again, closer to his torso to hand him the medicine, she arched a brow, suspicion written all over her face. “If you comment on my wardrobe, you’re not getting any medicine.”

He frowned, remembering the embarrassing, atrocious clothes Couffaine had bought him and her not commenting on it. He nodded in understanding, accepting the glass of water and a pill from her hands. “I’m not stupid enough to look a gift horse in its mouth.”

She scoffed, wincing in sympathy when Chat Noir tried sitting up, only to hiss in pain. Marinette leaned over. “Wait, let me help.”

Chat Noir didn’t dare move, he had overestimated himself tonight a bit, despite having shown zero signs of being in pain in front of that spy, the punishment he’d dealt after had been too much for his still fresh wounds. His body was screaming at him for his foolish actions.

Still, having the woman so close to him, so close he scented a hint of something sweet, most likely her hair conditioner, kept him on guard. He could admit to himself, silently, in the privacy of his own thoughts, how the sweet scent was more than welcome after smelling the pungent smell of ammonia on that man earlier.

He still wondered why the Fox had sent one of their cubs after him.

Had word gotten out of his imprisonment that fast? What was happening with his group?

His gaze moved towards the woman again, feeling her hands pressing lightly against the uninjured spots on his back and pushing him upright slowly, carefully.

He hissed through clenched teeth and her hands were off his body in a second. “I’m sorry!”

Chat Noir quickly waved a placating hand, shaking his head. “It’s alright, it wasn’t you.” He sucked in a breath before letting her help him settle into an upright position against the propped-up pillow, her own body coming dangerously close to his own.

The man tried to ignore the soft press of her chest against his own solid one, firmly reciting addresses in his mind he’d robbed in the past to distract himself. He was finally leaning against the propped-up pillows and she moved away from him, his tense body relaxing finally.

Chat Noir grabbing the pill and water and swallowed both.

Marinette observed him quietly, trying to gauge his reaction after he set the glass down on the small coffee table. “I didn’t think the medication would’ve worn off so fast.”

Chat Noir wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand, the chain rustling from the movement. “You didn’t have to.” He shifted, gritting his teeth at the pulling sensations, disturbing the carefully bandaged wounds which began to sting. Did he…have stitches?

He pressed his fingers carefully against his bandages, feeling small raised ridges beneath his chest, “What’s this?”

The lady cop moved closer, gaze seeking permission to inspect him closely. Chat Noir nodded his consent and her fingers pressed ever so gently against the tough bandage. “The doctor had to stich some wounds closed from…your scuffle in the cell.” The criminal nodded in understanding and the silence settled over them once again.  

The woman stared at her hands before speaking quietly, so quiet Chat Noir strained to hear, “I…I’m sorry for earlier, I…wasn’t thinking. Running low on sleep.”

He swallowed thickly, eyes downcast as the…moment from before replayed in his mind again, like a movie, the warmth from where her hand had touched him was still there, a phantom sensation.

He shifted. “It’s me who should apologize.” Marinette lifted her head bravely to meet his gaze and he cleared his throat. “Couffaine could’ve suspended or fired you, you could’ve lost your job when you defended me.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“I _know_ what you meant.” Green met blue and it seemed like none of them blinked since their eyes locked, the silence between them mutually shared.

The criminal rubbed his neck, messy blonde hair falling partly into his eyes. “You’re an odd one, you know.” He finished the sentence he hadn’t earlier in the evening.

At Marinette’s confused, mildly offended look, Chat Noir elaborated. “For feeling compassion for a criminal like me, I mean. I’m the big bad guy you finally caught, for the first time, if you should feel anything toward me, it’s pride for capturing me.”

The look in his eyes told her he fully believed in his own words and Marinette’s hand curled into a fist, wringing the material of the blanket in her death grip. “You’re _not_ a prize to be proud of, Chat Noir. You’re human beneath your mask and the criminal records.”

He scoffed, turning his head away. “Oh really? Then why do I feel anything but-“ a finger to his nose made him abruptly stop and he blinked quizzically at the cop, who pulled back her hand and shook her head.

“You’re an odd one too. From the bunch of criminals I’ve met in my life so far, none of them called me a lady before.” There was a hint of a little, amused tone in her voice and Chat Noir bristled.

Wait…

“He didn’t-“ before the words even left his lips fully, Chat Noir knew the truth.

_He did._

Marinette nodded, “Don’t blame Nino, he was so shocked, it’s not every day a high-class criminal compliment an officer like me.”

Chat Noir snorted, “I didn’t compliment you, you _are_ a woman, aren’t you?” his eyes unwittingly traveled down her torso, quickly moving away to stare at the boring wall instead.

“Lady’ is far more polite than ‘ cop’ or ‘woman’, don’t you think?” she practically spat out the words, trying to mimic the way he’d told them before. Chat Noir huffed, not believing he was being interrogated like this.

“Shouldn’t you catch up on your beauty sleep? _Cops_ should be alert at all times, shouldn’t they?” he rose an eyebrow, lips slowly forming into a smirk.

Her own smile never wavered, standing up to put the glass to the sink. “I’m not the one requiring beauty sleep, besides with us both injured as we are, I highly doubt you’d try anything.” Her fierce expression mildly softened, it still had the hardened edge like a passing warning addressed specifically to him, but not enough to intimidate. “Especially after I saved your ass.”

More casual words only left her lips in company of Alya, due to the reporter’s own occasional potty mouth, but Marinette was feeling a bit more carefree that night, she blamed it on the lack of sleep.

Chat Noir chuckled, a deep husky sound. “My ass never asked to be saved, princess.”

“And yet it whined in that cell.” Marinette stopped, suddenly feeling embarrassed at herself. Was she… _bantering_ with him? She shook her head.

“Hm…don’t forget, I saved you too.” A secretive smile settled on his lips and Marinette rose an eyebrow in question.

“What?”

“Nothing.” shaking his head, the criminal slowly settled back into the covers, remembering the words of the man from outside.

_“…I’ll personally finish off that cop!”_

It didn’t take a genius to guess what the pathetic man would’ve said, perhaps it was intuition among criminals, but Chat Noir felt unnerved.

His enemies knew he had been imprisoned, they knew _where_ he was, they even knew about the cop.

How did that information leak outside so quickly? Who could’ve notified his enemies? Did his group know?

No, one of his kittens would’ve already tried contacting him had that been the case. It didn’t make sense that the enemy knew before his own allies.

Only the police know the truth so how-

Unless…

“Chat Noir?” again, his thoughts came to a halt, head whipping up to look at the lady cop.

“Yes?”

She shifted her weight, despite the darkness, he could still recognize her silhouette. “I’m sorry.”

Chat Noir blinked, thoroughly stumped by the sudden apology. He couldn’t place the cause. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” She repeated.

“For… what?” he echoed his confusion again, sure he misheard. Was he making sense? Was _she_ making sense?

She shifted again and took a breath. “Had I known you…didn’t like being enclosed in small spaces, I would’ve seen to it that you got a bigger cell of your own.” To someone else, the words may have sounded strange, but given their relations as criminal and cop, it fit the frame.

“You… know?” then again, the doctor must’ve deduced it, based on camera footage he assumed, his attack must’ve been evident even through a lens.

“While the offer is very generous princess, I don’t believe you should be so considerate. I don’t extend the same courtesy, you must know.” He tried sounding nonchalant, but he underestimated the woman’s perceptiveness.

“You may pretend not to care and you think you may hide it well…” A pause. “Why did you call that prisoner ‘kitten’ after he thanked you?” Chat Noir didn’t need to see to guess the suspicious expression on the cop’s face.

He huffed, “It’s a pet name.”

“I doubt that.” Her voice was surprisingly firm, as if she didn’t believe him one bit.

“An insult really.”

“You’re lying.”

Chat Noir clicked his tongue. “Oh really? What did you think it was for a man I’ve never met in my life?” he smirked, waiting patiently for her answer.

She didn’t disappoint. “A term od endearment. A code.” She paused again, as if pondering seriously. “A _rank._ ”

Chat Noir froze, but covered his surprise with a loud laugh, the chains rattling from his hand moving up to run a hand down his face in disbelief. “You seriously think ‘kitten’ is a _rank_? What comes next, big cat? Wild cat? Tiger? Honestly, expected a bit more from someone of your caliber, lieutenant.”

Marinette didn’t let herself be undeterred, sitting down on the edge of the couch, Chat Noir jumping slightly when her hip touched his foot accidentally. “It makes sense, your image resembles a cat. I even heard a joke or two you made about cats. Wouldn’t it make sense if the top cat of a group called their minions ‘kittens’?”

A burst of something white hot, constricting and powerful spread through his chest and Chat Noir’s amused expression melted away to imperceptible traces of anger. “Minions, you say? For your information _lieutenant_ , there are more idiotic groups out there calling each-other minions, make no mistake in assuming my organization does the same.”

Marinette rose a brow at the oddly defensive, almost annoyed tone in the criminal’s voice, the moment she uttered the word ‘minions’ and his group in the same sentence.

“So, you’re trying to tell me you’re the lion mother of your pride and you have your…” she tried refraining from giggling out loud, but a few snickers escaped, “- _cubs?_ ”  

A peeved sigh left the criminal’s lips and he slowly rolled onto his side, hissing at the sharp pain from his wounds and throwing himself back onto his back again, crossing his arms over his head, “Not a lion mother and certainly no _cubs._ ”

He rolled his eyes when he heard a few barely suppressed snickers. “Just you laugh lieutenant, I could say the same about your _lap dog_ Couffaine.”

Marinette abruptly stopped, not expecting such a jab at her, much less her superior and friend. “Don’t call him that, he’s not my lap dog, he’s my superior and friend.”

Chat Noir, unimpressed, barked. “ _Woof.”_

“I understand why nobody came to save you.” Marinette smiled wryly at the snort coming from the man.

“You’re lucky they hadn’t yet, my kittens are smart, unlike some dogs.” He huffed, arms crossed. “They wouldn’t come where there are too many guard dogs on the watch, but you know that as well of course.”

Marinette rose an eyebrow, trying to curb down the feeling that he was hiding more from her. Of course he was hiding valuable information, maybe she should strengthen security more.

“What’s the history between you two?” Marinette was burning up with curiosity, if Luka wouldn’t tell her fully, perhaps Chat Noir would, while injured, sleep deprived and on painkillers.

The criminal chuckled, pulling the covers up to his bandaged stomach. “Shouldn’t you head to bed soon lieutenant? It’s quite late.” Chat Noir spied the clock on the wall of the kitchen, just barely making out the two pointers, showing past 2:00am.

Marinette lingered on the edge of the couch but stood up, head turned toward him. “What are you hiding cat?”

Another chuckle. “If I tell you that, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, now would it?”

“ _Touché.”_ was her answer and the criminal laughed.

“Good night, lieutenant.”

Her voice seemed farther away than before, probably somewhere in her bedroom. “Good night, criminal cat.”

“Good night, justice lady.”

This time, he heard a quiet giggle and a smirk curled his lips.

He heard the door close and the lock set in place, carefully readjusting himself Chat Noir closed his eyes.

Sleep didn’t claim him for hours to come, ears listening keenly to his surroundings, senses on alert for any other wandering foxes strolling about.

Foxes were normally scared of dogs, but Chat Noir learned they were much more terrified of cats.

Especially big ones.

* * *

 

Only the sounds of the occasional laughter from the playing children gave them a much needed reprieve of the suffocating silence.

Silence that had permeated their den like a veil of miasma since their leader’s disappearance.

“It’s been weeks.” A tiny rock was flung against the opposite side of the wall, bouncing off it harmlessly.

“He’s known to scout the area for any parasites, you should know that.”

The female voice from before growled and continued her restless pacing. “I _know_ that.” The small black paw symbol on her shoulder moved as she stretched, hissing at the pain in her back. “But he’s never been out this late. He always returned after a week, maybe two if he encounters trouble. He’s been gone for over three weeks, Roger.”

The blonde-haired woman twirled her umbrella, leaning it against the wall to cross her arms. “We should go look for him!”

“You think he got captured?” a much younger member, barely the age of fifteen, asked quietly, foot digging into the floor uneasily.

An older man snorted in disbelief. “Don’t be silly. Chat Noir getting captured? It’d take fifty of those blue pissers to hold him down and another fifty to restrain him completely.”

“A hundred people? Aren’t you overexaggerating, Roy?” Aurore leaned her hand against her umbrella, fixing her friend with a skeptical look.

“Tch, if he’s serious, it would take a lot of men to take him down, weather girl.” The woman rolled her eyes at Roy.

“Maybe he left us for a lady cat?” Roger proposed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Aurore hummed. “…Erm…well…he’s known to be a bit of a lady killer.”

Roy shook his head, “Yeah, but he wouldn’t leave us for some woman.”

“M-Maybe uncle Chat’s waiting for us to get him…” the younger member meekly added, flinching at the older man’s booming voice.

Roy shot to his feet energetically, brows drawing into a glare. “Bullshit! As if a living legend like him would get captured! Listen boy, in all my years of loyal servitude to him, he’s not been caught _once_. Why would he be caught now!?”   

For his age, the boy’s voice was fierce despite the tears filling his eyes. “Because we weren’t there to back him up! We got ambushed suddenly and he was alone in enemy territory! We weren’t there to back him up!” Aurore placed a calming hand on the boy’s shoulders, pulling him into her side while fixing a death glare up at Roy, who only scoffed and crossed his arms.

A younger man sitting next to Roger rose up, attracting the gazes of everyone. “It’s a possibility we can’t ignore, right? We can’t rule that out.” Renier, a longtime friend of Chat Noir and right-hand man in everything tactical and technological spoke up calmly, hands shoved in his pockets. “He would’ve contacted us already had it been anything else. Other scum started gravitating towards our den more because they hadn’t seen Chat Noir here in a while.”

He took a small rectangular device out of his pocket, a green blinking dot flicking on the radar. “Me and a few others will have a search party. Aurore, you and the thieves disperse and sniff out our latest targets. Send out snipers to guard the entrances and leave Zero with the kids.”

Aurore placed a hand upon Renier’s shoulder. “Hold on, you want to leave the explosive maniac with the kids? He _hates_ anything shorter than him and louder than a bulldozer, he’ll go ballistic!” the umbrella in her hand was tapping against the ground impatiently.

Renier smiled, running a comforting hand through the sniffling boy’s hair and walking out of the room. “Exactly. He’ll be more alert because he has babysitting duty, but also more pissed off if anyone crosses his path. That way, the kids are even safer than if any of us stayed behind.”

The former weather woman grimaced, silently agreeing with the older male before she walked the other way to gather the rest of the cats.

“That’s right. Let’s get our leader back.” Aurore’s gait was filled with purpose, the umbrella twirling with more power.

* * *

 

The vibrations from her phone chased away any lingering sleep she had, a hand blindly reaching for her phone, only for it to fall to the carpet.

Cursing silently beneath her breath, Marinette cracked her eyes open and grabbed her buzzing phone, answering. “Lieut. Dupain-Cheng.”

The voice on the other line shook her out of any sleepiness she had. _“Colonel Couffaine here.”_

Marinette shot up to a sitting position like a bullet, back straight and eyes wide. “Y-Yes, sir!?”

An amused chuckle filled her ears and Marinette briefly stared at the device before pressing it against her ear again. “Um…hello?”

Luka responded once again, sounding highly amused. “ _Good morning little melody. Sorry for waking you, I assume you didn’t have much sleep? You sounded like you were expecting me to order you to do push-ups.”_ Marinette’s groan made Luka laugh again.

She fell back onto her pillows, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry. Sleep didn’t coffee any drink.”

“ _You barely slept and didn’t have your coffee, yet?_ ” this man’s smooth voice in the morning would be the death of her, Marinette swore. “ _Want to get coffee together?”_

A small smile lit up Marinette’s tired features, but the hand slapping the side of her face broke it like a spell. “Sorry Luka, I have to change Chat Noir’s bandages and go grocery shopping and everything. I think it’s…uhm…” she tried wracking her brain for the date and day, but came up empty handed.

Thankfully, Luka read her like an open book. “ _It’s Saturday, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”_

The dark-haired woman giggled, wedging her phone between her shoulder and cheek and putting on a bra. “Right, thank you Mr. Couffaine, noted.” She paused, trying to remember if she had anything she had to report. “By the way, did the doctor tell you anything else about  Chat Noir’s condition? Should I do anything else other than change bandages?”

There was rustling on the other line before her superior and friend spoke up again. “ _Change bandages two times a day and check for any bleeding on the wounds. Apply a cooling ointment on the open wounds and a disinfectant powder on the closed ones.”_ He recited the instructions he’d received from the doctor himself.

“Alright, I’ll write that down for later. Thanks Luka.” Marinette slowly grabbed her phone again and looked at the screen, finger hovering over the ‘Call End’ button.

“ _Wait!”_ the phone was pressed to her ear in seconds, eyes flying open.

“W-What?”

The former marine’s voice sounded a bit hesitant, a rare occurrence. “ _There’s this…small concert Kitty Section will throw in about a week…wanna watch? First row seat?”_

A blush colored the officer’s cheeks and Marinette couldn’t fight off the stupid goofy grin she’d had since her teenage years. “S-Sure, I’d love to!”

_“Great! I’ll get you tickets and pick you up before it starts.”_

There was only one problem. “W-Wait, what about Chat Noir?”

“… _I recall Kim skipped out on a few shifts due to his illegal races against Alix with duty cars…”_ Marinette giggled, hearing Luka chuckle. “ _Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”_

“Alright, if you say so. I’ll see you on Monday for breakfast. Greet Juleka from me!” after getting an affirmative response, Marinette hung up and stretched with a yawn.

A flash of pain made her cave in on herself, body shivering from the unexpected pain.

Her _ribs_.

She completely forgot.

Wincing, she slowly lifted her shirt upwards, biting her lip at the ugly sight.

Her midsection looked like Nathaniel’s canvas after using dark blue and green colors, with a splash of red.

Chat Noir sure did a good number on her.

Gingerly getting up, Marinette slowly walked towards the ironing board in the corner of her bedroom, the elastic band hanging off it the doctor gave her.

She dreaded putting on the compression bandage after her night of freedom, but orders were orders.

 Taking a deep breath, Marinette held one side to the center of her stomach while she wrapped the other one around her mid-section, connecting the two ends by four hooks.

She winced, adjusting it again before she moved to get dressed in comfortable pants and a simple shirt.

She had expected to have a foreboding feeling when she unlocked the bedroom door, or heard Chat Noir moving about, but she had none of them.

Silence.

Peaceful silence, not the kind before a predator pounced on prey.

Marinette quickly rushed into the bathroom, almost done getting ready for the morning.

It took only minutes and she was out again, hair in messy pigtails and face still tingling from the cold splash of water.

The sight that greeted her in the living room had her frozen at the doorway.

It was Chat Noir.

_Asleep._

Rubbing her eyes in disbelief, the policewoman blinked again.

Was this a dream?

Why was he still sleeping?

It was…

A glance at the clock told her it was 7:15am. Not too early, but definitely later than she usually awoke. No wonder Luka had called her, he’d expected her to be asleep.

She fondly remembered her teenage years of always sleeping in, now as an adult, she’d be off to work earlier than she needed to.

Her attention focused back on the silently sleeping criminal, sheets strewn about, face half pressed into the pillow, blonde hair a messy bird’s nest. How the mask managed to stay planted on his face, she would never know.

She couldn’t recall seeing the man asleep, he had always been awake earlier than her, even if it was at six in the morning. It was odd. Maybe he had a weird inner clock like she had since her twenties.

Perhaps he’d learned those skills as part of being a criminal and living on the streets.

She took the rare opportunity to look at him a bit longer, since he was usually alert and could notice her gaze.

Marinette had seen from a few occasion’s how well-built he was, all the running from authorities and lifting heavy stolen goods must’ve done him good. He wasn’t too bad looking if one overlooked the black mask and the death glare.

A very miniscule part of her wished he still had the cat ears, they made him look a bit better, if only a bit.

He had surprisingly white teeth for a criminal, she’d seen all sorts of poor hygiene, black teeth, yellow-ish, even gold ones.

His hair was always messy, maybe purposefully unkept.

And he had red-  

Red bandages.

 _Bloodied_ bandages.

Marinette’s heart turned to stone and her feet were quicker than her brain in the early morning hours.

Normally, she’d politely ask and gently wake him up.

Now, she _leapt_.

And pounced upon the sleeping male like a mountain lion on a slumbering rabbit.

The reaction was similar.

If Marinette had known what would’ve happened, she would have definitely reconsidered her approach.

A startled yell reached her ears, followed by strong arms attempting to pry her off.

What followed was a frantic mess of limbs and sounds, alternating between shouts and startled yelps.

Even in the midst of all the commotion, Marinette could tell none of his movements were wasted. They were practiced. As if he regularly warded off people off himself.

Her hand reached his stomach amidst the mayhem and the accidental pressure on his wounds caused Chat Noir’s actions to increase tenfold in intensity and speed, trying to push the threat away from his sleep riddled body.

Chat Noir slammed a knee against her hip, thankfully weak in their scuffle, and Marinette tried to reach his upper arms to hold him down. His hand slipped somewhere underneath her outstretched one to stop her.

Her thoughts and the chaos of tangled limbs came to a halt when she felt a hand press against the side of her breast and her instincts kicked in.

“ _Pervert!_ ”

She slapped him.

 _Hard_.

Chat Noir’s cheek stung and his head whipped to the side, his own hands still holding onto the woman by her waist and shoulder.

When he turned his head towards her, his green gaze was _livid_. “What…What the _hissing fuck_ was _that_?!” they were both panting, him from the shock of his rude awakening, her from the adrenaline and the surprise of his accidental inappropriate touch.

“W-What were you thinking touching me like that?!” her arms were protectively crossed over her chest, cheeks a rosy pink.

“And what were _you_ thinking jumping me like that?! I was _sleeping!_ If this is your standard interrogation technique then you can-” the enraged criminal tried moving away until he froze, eyes widening in alarm.

His body convulsed, the tremors spreading through the entirety of his body until Chat Noir clutched at his stomach and fell back onto the bed.

A pained cry escaped his lips and Marinette’s previous embarrassment was immediately forgotten when she spotted the bandages darkening with more blood.

She never thought the doctor’s number she had on speed dial would ever be put to use.

It definitely would be now.

_A few minutes later…_

Marinette was pacing back and forth behind the closed door to her living room, anxiously biting her fingernails.

She waited.

And waited.

And _waited._

What was that doctor doing so long?!

Minutes passed after her internal panic subsided and the doctor finally called her back in after half an hour of treating the man inside.

She couldn’t remember the last time when she opened a door so fast.

Chat Noir was laying flat on his back, torso covered in gauze, face set in a disapproving grimace.

Marinette winced, hoping silently that it wasn’t as horrible as it first looked.

The doctor rubbed his forehead, a heavy sigh escaping him when he removed the mask. “The worst is over, I’ve managed to close his wounds and clean them properly. Lieutenant, could you tell me how his stitches have opened?”

Marinette stiffened like a statue, the scenes replaying in her mind like a broken record. Lawsuits of domestic violence, abuse of power, physical abuse against a defenseless man swam through her mind at a rapid pace.

How would she explain her intense worry had spurred her to irrational thinking and led to her jumping the poor man and accidentally injuring hi-

“I fell off the bed.”

The policewoman broke out of her thoughts, wide eyes staring at the criminal.

The doctor turned towards him and Chat Noir met his gaze fearlessly, repeating himself. “You fell off the bed?”

She’d never seen a man look so miserable in her life. “I tossed and turned in my sleep and fell off this damn couch. If you didn’t notice doctor, this thing’s not exactly made for my size.”

Marinette wasn’t a twig, but she wasn’t as broadly built as a man, the couch fit her quite fine and Alya when the woman came over for snacks and a movie. Chat Noir’s feet were just on the edge, not dangling off but the width was more of a problem. It was a bit slim for his frame.

The aged doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, shifting his attention back to the officer. “Do you have any other more suitable sleeping accommodations?”

The word left her mouth before she could even think of the repercussions. “My bed.”

Chat Noir’s head snapped towards her like a bullet, green eyes so wide she feared they would pop out of his head.

The man in the white coat nodded, as if agreeing with her suggestion. “Well, until his stitches come out, I suggest keeping him rested on a bigger sleeping surface to prevent such…” he gave a sidelong glance at the criminal, who huffed. “… _accidents_ from repeating. You have my number lieutenant, call should you need anything. I assume you’ve written down my instructions for his bandages and medications?” he arched a grey eyebrow.

Marinette nodded quickly, too stunned to speak.

The doctor sighed. “Very well, I’ll take my leave. Take care lieutenant, Chat Noir.” He nodded at the criminal, who returned his respectful head nod.

“Thank you, doctor.”

Both adults were dead silent until the doctor completely left the apartment. Silence settled over them like a heavy veil and Chat Noir’s gaze was set on the still surprised cop in the room.

“So…your bed, huh?” the question served its purpose.

It ripped her violently from her thoughts.

“W-Wh- y-you-! You pervert! You touched me inappropriately!” Marinette crossed her arms defensively, common sense having lost since abandoned ship.

Chat Noir’s brows shot to his hairline. “ _Excuse me?!_ Just _who_ jumped whom violently while the other was _sleeping_ and _assaulted_ them so badly to open up their wounds?!” Chat Noir was oddly laying still, gesticulating with his arms would’ve hurt too much with the freshly applied bandages.

“I-I apologize! You-I saw you bleeding through your bandages and I-I wasn’t thinking, it was early and I just woke up and-!” Marinette ran a hand through her hair, feeling the fine sheen of sweat gathering at her scalp from all the morning stress. “I didn’t mean for your injuries to open I swear, I was concerned because I saw the blood and you were sleeping so I thought you might’ve lost consciousness!”

The criminal sighed, shaking his head. “Tch, you’re lucky I’m not an asshole otherwise I’d have filed a complaint, cop.”

Marinette huffed, resting her hands on her hips. “From the injuries _you_ have given me it’s you who should be lucky that I didn’t throw you in the cell on that island, cat.”

Chat Noir snorted, eyes refusing to look at her directly. “Look, it’s not like I did it on purpose. I was aiming to get you off my sore ribs.”

Marinette knew Chat Noir hadn’t meant to touch her like that during their scuffle, she knew from experience while training, accidents could occur, especially since she ripped him out of his sleep suddenly.

Gathering all her patience, the woman stepped forward but remained a safe distance away. “Let’s forget this. I wanted to change your bandages but since the doctor already did… Let’s have breakfast, we need to head out.”

Chat Noir warily watched the hand extended at him, as if it would bite him. “ _We?”_

“I have to take you with me. It’s Saturday, my colleagues don’t have time to watch you so you’ll have to accompany me grocery shopping.” It wasn’t entirely wrong either. Ivan had plans with his family and Kim was off on a swimming competition with his rival Ondine and the rest wasn’t available.

Luka came to mind, but she didn’t need any more drama than she already had gotten this morning. She wasn’t sure how Chat Noir would react being so close to him, alone at that, not with the way they last saw each-other.

Marinette also started to worry how _Luka_ himself would react in Chat Noir’s presence, if his last outburst was anything to go by. They still hadn’t talked about that, Marinette had to approach him some time before or after work hours. Maybe she should’ve accepted that breakfast offer.

A look at Chat Noir immediately shut that thought down. Even injured and restrained, he was a threat.

And still a suspect.

Someone to be looked after.

Marinette waited patiently, waiting for Chat Noir to grab her hand so she could help him stand up.

The criminal’s gaze flickered from her hand to her eyes, distrust so painstakingly obvious that Marinette almost cringed. It _was_ her fault, his distrust wasn’t surprising.

He sighed but didn’t take her hand, instead Chat Noir leaned back only to use the momentum and swing forward with his body, feet moving aside to land on the floor and stand upright, a head taller than her.

“See? I don’t need your- _ugh_!” his body suddenly fell forward, shoulders shaking and leg just barely catching his own weight as it almost gave out.

“Chat Noir!” Marinette’s hands immediately latched onto his shoulders to hold him upright, head leaned onto her shoulder and Marinette stayed perfectly still, eyes wide at their sudden close proximity.

Chat Noir seemed to think the same, if the sudden muscles turning to iron beneath her hands was any indicator. He leaned away from her, voice strained from pain. “I’m fine, lady cop.”

“No, you aren’t. Just…just stay still.” Taking a deep breath and mentally bracing herself, Marinette slipped through Chat Noir’s arm.

She could feel how he tensed even further and sighed. “Listen, this isn’t any easier on me so just…bear with me until we reach the table.”

His warm breath hit her neck when he breathed out a strained: “ _Fine._ ”

Marinette had no idea where it came from, but a sudden violent shiver raced down her spine and she almost fell back when Chat Noir’s weight settled against her side. “Too heavy for you, lieutenant?”

The side eye he got made him chuckle, but a light jab to his side shut him up very quickly. “Very funny, criminal. Now be quiet and lean on me.”

Another long-suffering sigh, before he leaned some of his weight against her, his larger frame somewhat dwarfing her side. Why did his shoulders have to be so broad? Or his chest? How could running away from authorities do that?

Focusing on the task at hand, Marinette slowly helped the man walk to the kitchen table, the table which was usually so close now seemed so far away.

The places where their bodies touched seemed so unbearably hot, despite the moderate temperatures outside. Marinette tried reciting information about him to distract herself, distract herself from their scuffle before, from their too inappropriate closeness now.

‘ _He is injured, protocol doesn’t apply here. He’s injured, he’s-‘_

Marinette’s eyes flew open when Chat Noir turned slightly, stomach pressing against her arm holding him up.

If she hadn’t gone through rigorous training, if she hadn’t dated before, if she hadn’t had the little sleep she did and was still like her teenage self, Marinette would’ve been a blushing mess at the firm press of hard muscle against her hand.

Thankfully, they continued their snail’s pace without interruption, Marinette putting a deadbolt lock on the fleeting, purely physical reaction she’d had.

She was a professional.

After excruciatingly slow seconds, they finally reached the kitchen table and Marinette carefully helped Chat Noir settle into the chair, a relieved sigh escaping them both when he was safely sat on the stool.

“Next time, I’ll file a complaint on domestic abuse.”

“Next time, _I’ll_ file a complaint on sexual harassment.”

Green eyes swirled to her back while Marinette made coffee. “You can’t do that! It was an accident!”

A smirk curled her lips. “The exact same words I’ll use to defend myself, because it _was_ an accident.”

Chat Noir mirrored her smirk, trying to cross his arms but hissing at the pain it caused. “Oh, so me accidentally touching you in _self-defense_ was sexual harassment, but your full-body slam on my own body on top of a bed was… _accidental?_ My, my _purrincess._ ” Something akin to mirth reflected in his green eyes and Marinette tried to curb the feeling of annoyance bubbling in her stomach.

“I told you not to call me that, criminal.” She set his steaming mug of coffee in front of him, fixing herself one too.

Absentmindedly rubbing the spot Chat Noir’s hand had accidentally touched, she grumbled to herself silently, trying to burn the feel of his hand there away from her mind.

His voice, now much closer and an octave deeper, whispered softly to her ear. “Only if you stop calling me ‘criminal’, little lady.”

She turned around and Marinette had to brace her hands against her kitchen counter when Chat Noir’s intense green eyes stared right into her own, face so close she could feel his breath fan her cheeks and the miniscule details of his mask.

In a moment of absentmindedness, Marinette’s hand slowly rose to touch Chat Noir’s cheek, fingers pressed against the edges of his dark mask.

His eyes portrayed his shock at her unexpected touch and Marinette’s brain tried to analyze the strange high-quality material she was touching when a voice called her name softly from somewhere behind them.

“Marinette?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! What did you think so far? BTW: A new character will appear in the next chapter (canon character, but someone that didn't appear that often). ^,^


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

“Marinette?”

A sensation like ice solidified her veins like the crystalline shards in winter, the sudden realization of where she was and exactly _what_ she was doing finally dawned on her.

As did the stunned, unblinking emerald eyes staring at her.

Marinette recoiled back, like a frightened animal from a striking snake and saw the expression on the person’s face behind Chat Noir’s still form.

“ _M-Marianne?!_ ”

The old woman stood still, face set into a surprised expression as her gaze was locked on the two adults, particularly the man whose back was still turned to her. Her green gaze narrowed, as if trying to place the figure to a distant image in her mind, a familiar image. “You’re…”

Chat Noir slowly turned around, body moving like a robot, stiff and lethargic. Eyes wide and pupils dilated.

It was when he was fully turned towards the older woman that he finally managed to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. “…Madame Noir?”

Marinette blinked, embarrassment gone and as the name Chat Noir had uttered sunk into her mind, confusion washed over her. “M-Madame Noir?”

Marianne’s expression softened, gone was the surprise and in its place was a look of affection and nostalgia. “I’m glad you seem to be in good hands, _chaton_.”

Again, the lieutenant switched her gaze from the stunned looking criminal to the kindly smiling woman, whose features were warm with realization. “Chaton?” what…was going _on_?

The gray-haired lady walked closer and Marinette’s instincts screamed at her to step in front to warn her of Chat Noir, but instead, the man in question suddenly fell to one knee, head bowed low to the ground.

“M-Madame you…” he swallowed thickly, the words seeming to get stuck in his throat.

The elderly woman smiled, placing a gentle, almost motherly hand atop the blond messy hair of the kneeling man. “You… must be quite surprised to see me.”

His form trembled and Marinette briefly thought it was of pain, but when he spoke again, she thought otherwise. “I…It’s been…years. We…we thought you…” he cut himself off, seemingly in shock.

Marianne wiped at her eye, settling a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Stand up, chaton. You don’t have to kneel for me.” She smiled up at the stunned criminal, green eyes softening with affection. “How you’ve grown…you used to still be a little green behind your ears the last time we saw each-other.”

It seemed like Marinette was forgotten as Chat Noir stepped forward, his gaze only focused at the elderly woman. “They came for us at the home, you were there, you pushed us through the exit and you stayed behind.” His fists shook, lip captured between teeth as his head turned away. “We thought…-“

Marianne moved closer and embraced the trembling man, one wrinkled hand settled on the back of his head while the other rested on his back. “Shh…everything is alright now.”

Bluebell eyes watched the scene silently, the second shock of the day raining down upon her.

How in the world was her elderly, friendly neighbor involved with Chat Noir?

* * *

 

Keys jiggled noisily as the last of the office doors were locked, lights turning off in the main area before Luka Couffaine strolled into his office, preparing to finally head home for the day.

It was late, well past shift’s end, but Luka was known to work long, his sister knew it all too well.

Just then, a familiar tune on his phone alerted him of a message.

He smiled when he opened it.

_“Hey, make sure to come home soon, that casserole is getting cold, Lu.” 8:50pm_

He shook his head, typing a quick reply back to his sister.

She didn’t cook often, normally he’d be the one who provided edible food for the both of them, but once every while, his sister looked up some recipes and tried them out. He couldn’t wait to try out that casserole, he was sure it’d taste good. She was trying, that was what counted.

He set his phone down on his desk, pushing together papers into neat piles and saving them for tomorrow, until his gaze caught Chat Noir’s files peeking from one pile.

Lips forming into a thin line, Luka lifted the photo of Chat Noir post imprisonment into his hand, green eyes set into a menacing glare, lips pulled down into a scowl. The only thing missing was fur standing on end and Luka would’ve mistaken him for a feral cat.

Emotions and images rushed through him at the scowling figure. Emotions he long since buried, images he thought were banned to the back of his mind.

_‘Hi there, what’s a fish like you doing out of water?’_

The colonel moved towards the small closet behind his chair, unlocking it and pulling out his guitar, a bottle of whisky was promptly seized from its resting place next to the musical instrument.

Grabbing an empty glass and sitting at his desk, Luka poured himself whisky while balancing his guitar on his lap, taking a sip of the amber liquid before his back hit the cushioned chair and his fingers gently strummed along the strings from his guitar.

And his mind recalled memories of Chat Noir.

He remembered the bar he’d visited after training, the other marines frequented it often and Luka got dragged into them often enough, his fellow marines claiming he needed to ‘loosen up’.

That’s where he spotted the blond man, partly hidden by the shadows of the dimly lit bar, partly observing the other patrons with a keen eye. It was only when he caught Luka’s curious gaze that the young man with the wild blond hair and the mischievous green eyes sat at his table.

The first words that had come out of his mouth weren’t what Luka had expected then.

_‘Hi there, what’s a fish like you doing out of water?’_

The whisky slid down Luka’s throat in a small stream, before the colonel set it down and began playing a slow, sad tune to the pace of his thoughts.

 _‘You forget, we’re not from the Navy. I’m more of a devil dog than a fish.’_ The young marine-in-training had smiled amicably at the young blond. _‘I could ask you the same. What’s a pup like you doing out here wandering the streets? I’ve seen you sneaking about before.’_

There had been a look about the man he would come to know as Chat Noir, a look that spoke of harsh months of bitter survival in the criminal streets of Marseille. “ _Just passing by, devil dog. And you forget, I’m more of a feline than a canine.”_

He had dangled something from his hands and Luka’s eyes had flown open when he patted his pockets and failed to feel his keys in them, “ _Wha-how did you do that?”_ he took the offered keys from the grinning man again and secured them into the deepest pocket he had, zipping them shut.

The blond had chuckled, amused at the young marine’s astonishment. “ _Told you.”_

Luka, still naïve, still so unsuspecting of the mischievous green eyes and the roguish grin, intentions concealed behind a façade of innocent, childish playfulness.

They’d clicked glasses together and had talked and laughed well into the night. Luka’s colleagues had either been outdrank under the tables or have settled in for the night, in preparation for the next day’s harsh training.

He should’ve too, but he was too entertained by the mysterious younger man, who only offered ‘Adrien’ as a name, who shared humorous jokes, old tales and a select few experiences Luka could resonate with.

He wasn’t even sure if ‘Adrien’ had been his true name, but that was what he had gotten as an introduction.

His melody was an upbeat one at the beginning, a kind of tune people could dance to and have a fun time.

But to Luka’s keen ears, his melody was accompanied by another one almost too quiet to notice.

It was a slower tune, melancholic in nature and lonely in existence.

That little melody, Luka had kept in the back of his mind and it had accompanied the blonde stranger for the duration of their meet-ups afterwards.

It had been especially sad on their last meeting, followed by the blaring noise of police sirens and boisterous shouts from authorities, as Luka watched the blonde dressed in black fleeing from them.

Since that day, Luka thought their encounters had been mere tricks to get his claws on potential treasure, but the tragic tune that vanished with Chat Noir’s disappearance made him think otherwise.

It wasn’t one of deceit nor trickery.

It was one of loneliness.

And of sad green eyes covered by a black mask.

Whisky spilled onto the side of his pants leg, the spot darkening with the moisture.

Luka set the glass down and wiped at it with his handkerchief, the light pink material coloring a pale orange-yellow from the alcohol.

The name sewed in cursive into the handkerchief stared at him, the beautiful embroidery humbly framing its creators name.

_Marinette_

He smiled, neatly folding and placing it back into his breast pocket, over his heart before glancing over at his still running computer.

Fingers tapped against the hardwood material of his desk thoughtfully, eyes scanning his desktop, running over the icons.

He opened the Interpol database, clicking his way onto the wanted persons tag.

The search bar flashed up, beside it the latest number of ‘red notices’ reading over seven thousand people.

He typed in the name, country and approximate age. He knew it was futile, there wasn’t enough data, the last search had come up empty.

He clicked on ‘ _Search’_.

A sigh left his lips, eyes lazily trailing over people fitting the very vague description, none of them even remotely catching his eye.

_No match._

The screen went black, chair pushed in and jacket slung over his shoulder, keys jiggling with the lock setting in place. The clock read _9:30pm._

Luka Couffaine was finally going home.

_Half an hour later.._

Wiping her hands clean on a spare cloth, the young woman rushed towards the door, already recognizing the telltale knocking rhythm of her brother.

A small smile lit up her features at the sight of the man. “Welcome home, Lu.”

The tall policeman smiled at his sibling warmly, wiping his shoes on the doormat. “Thanks Jul.” she took the grocery bags from him, filled with fruits and two small boxes.

Luka hung up his uniform on the coatrack before joining his sister in the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and running a hand through his hair. Juleka smiled in sympathy at the tired yawn leaving his lips. “Hard day?”

He craned his neck, feeling something pop when he stretched his back. “Kinda. Yours?”

She shrugged, packing away the fruits and setting the two boxes on the table, next to two steaming plates of casserole. “It was alright, Rose came in and got me lunch, the day got better after that.”

Luka chuckled, grabbing a glass of water for himself and sitting at what he presumed was his plate, eyes discreetly taking note of the mess of noodles, a sauce and pieces of chicken. “Chicken casserole?” he caught the wince from his sister, the pathologist taking a seat opposite of him.

“Yeah, tried out something new. We still have pizza in the fridge if it’s bad.”

Luka shook his head, taking his fork immediately and digging in. “I’m sure it’s good, Jul.” he tried a bite, savoring it in his mouth. It was just a touch too spicy, but good.

Expectant copper eyes gazed at him intently and he offered a big grin with a wink. “ _Eggcellent_.”

Juleka snorted, brushing her long hair back and swallowing her food. “I can’t believe you’re a policeman.”

Her older brother shrugged, chuckling. “Can’t believe my little sister’s touching dead people.” the surprised gasp made his shoulder’s quake with suppressed laughter, effortlessly catching the napkin thrown to his face. “What? It’s true.”

“Under _authorization_ , mind you.”

 Luka grinned playfully. “Really? Whose?”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Yours, _colonel_.”

The grin remained on his face, even after a second napkin hit his face, this time successfully. “Hey, we need those.”

Juleka rose an eyebrow. “For what?”

He motioned towards the two small boxes. “I brought dessert. Your favorite.”

A warm smile was his answer and Luka smiled back, both siblings finishing their meal in comfortable silence.

“I told Marinette the reports you’ve gathered.” Juleka looked up from her tasty chocolate treat, eyes blinking in recognition. “About Chat Noir. Are you sure you checked everything?”

Juleka took the fork out of her mouth, readjusting herself on the couch before focusing her attention on her brother. “Yeah I did, Alix double checked for me just to be safe, Alya gathered all the files and news reports she could get her hands on and checked the sources. It’s highly unlikely Chat Noir _hadn’t_ been set up. All we don’t know is, by whom and why.”

Luka ran a hand through his messy hair, his blue tipped hair falling into his tired eyes. “I admit, it doesn’t really fit into his M.O. still…it’s Chat Noir, we can’t really take any chances. I’ll look into it with some of my older colleagues.”

The dark haired woman nodded, taking another forkful of her chocolate cake, before a small smile curved her lips. “How’s Marinette? Did you tell her about the gig?”

A smile immediately lit up her brother’s features, eyes alive and free of the previous tiredness. “She’s tired after everything, but she’s holding up. I asked her ou- I asked her and she said she’ll think about it.”

“What? Why? She always goes to our concerts.” Juleka pretended she hadn’t heard her brother’s slip-up about ‘asked her out’.

A scoff left his lips, sad aqua eyes staring down at his own cake. “She can’t leave Chat Noir out of sight, but I’ll work something out with Kim. She needs some rest.”

“Yeah, she does. Can’t imagine living with a criminal, not to mention someone like Chat Noir.” She shivered, folding her legs together to the side on the couch.

“What, scared?” the part time guitarist rose an eyebrow playfully.

“Just because I have a police brother doesn’t mean I’m not scared of criminals. You’re the one with the gun, not me.” She pouted and it reminded Luka of their younger days whenever she did that. “Besides, I touch dead people, not alive ones who can kill me when they want to.” She pointed her fork at him and he shook his head, silently agreeing.

“You said that toxicology report’s due, right?”

She lifted her side bang and brushed it back behind her ear, humming in agreement. “Yeah, should be in in about…a week?”

Her brother nodded, munching on his cake. “Call me when it’s done, I need the full report as soon as possible.”

“Will do, Lu.”

The Couffaine siblings enjoyed their free time after work, exchanging stories about their respective jobs.

Luka had an uneasy feeling going to bed that night, a nosy voice in the back of his mind that wouldn’t go away no matter how long he mediated before going to bed.

It kept him on guard, even when his eyes finally slid shut.

He had a feeling it had to do with Chat Noir.

* * *

 

Marinette was sitting next to Chat Noir on the couch, Marianne sitting opposite of them on the kitchen chair Marinette had carried over for her, a cup of warm tea in her hands as her kind eyes met the blond man again.

“So, you’ve been caught after all this time…” she giggled, as if the thought amused her.

Chat Noir shrugged, the chains rattling around his shackled wrists. “Ah, well, you know, I was set up, otherwise I never would’ve gotten caught!” he grinned, like the confident fool he was.

Marinette shot him a dark look which he pointedly ignored in favor of turning his attention to the older woman. “So…you’ve been in hiding all these years? Why did you never contact us? The others would’ve been-“

“-The others would’ve been disappointed, betrayed by their caretaker abandoning them in their time of need.” She hung her head low, but Chat Noir bristled.

“That’s not true madame! None of us ever blamed you nor master for anything! We knew you did that to protect us!” the man settled back down slowly, eyes downcast in memories. “The years…had been harsh, in the beginning up until now. But the kittens are safe, I made sure of that.”

There was a knowing, motherly smile on the older woman’s face, something that told Marinette that there was affection between them akin to a real family. “Of course you did.” Then, she turned her attention to Marinette with a sheepish smile. “Oh Marinette, you must have so many questions.”

“I do, actually.” Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously and she glanced quickly at Chat Noir. “Just how do you know one of the worst criminals in the Interpol database, Marianne? You’re my neighbor!”

The woman chuckled, rubbing her wrinkly cheek. “You must know, he didn’t have such a reputation years ago, but he always was a bit of a rascal.” Chat Noir actually sunk in on himself at the look Marianne was giving him, like a mother wordlessly scolding her son.

“Would you mind telling me?” Marinette’s trusting eyes were genuine, but Chat Noir’s firm voice cut through the air like a blade.

“No.” both women glanced at him in surprise, sharp green eyes fixed on the policewoman. “You won’t tell her anything, madame.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it was so short! Writer's block is so stupidly persistent but I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter nonetheless! The next one will be longer! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Marianne stood up, raising a placating hand to rest on the tense man’s shoulder. “Calm down chaton, I think she deserves to know.”

His eyes were narrowed when he glanced at her but softened slightly, as if reluctant to inflict the scorching scrutiny he felt upon her. “She’s a cop investigating against me, if you tell her anything she could use, she’ll endanger the others.”

The others? Who were ‘the others’? The ‘kittens’ Chat Noir mentioned earlier? Were they his friends or fellow criminals? Marinette bit her lip, a fierce fire burning in her heart, wishing to just shout out all the questions she had and solve the case. It didn’t seem like Chat Noir would co-operate.

Marianne shook her head, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “Marinette isn’t like that, you can trust her.” The look she gave him reminded him of home, of years spent carefree and safe, of years that passed. “You can trust _me_.”

His fists shook at his sides and Marinette spied the way his jaw worked, obviously battling his instincts of _not_ trusting her.

And then, she made a decision when she stood, leveling them both with a calm look. “Marianne, it’s fine, if he doesn’t want to trust me, it’s fine.” For a moment, Marianne looked at her with understanding and a kind smile, as if expecting that answer, but then Marinette’s lips twisted into a frown. “I’ll find out one way or another.”

Chat Noir snorted, as if expecting her answer and motioned towards her with his head, lips pulled back into a snarl and a sharp hiss escaping him. “See? I told you she can’t be trusted.” If he had a real cat tail, Marinette imagined it would move erratically behind him.

The elder woman tried coming in between them, her voice soft as she tried breaking the tension in the room. “Marinette! Please! I know you’re more understanding than this, I trust Chat Noir when he says he’s innocent.”

Before Marinette could diffuse the situation, Chat Noir’s hand was on Marianne’s shoulder, a gloomy shadow over his eyes and lips set into a thin line. “I’m not, madame.” His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the earlier dark tone. “I long since stopped being innocent.” When he met her eyes, they were pained, almost ancient looking, as if he’d suffered through every thing the world had to offer.

Marinette was taken aback by the look, but the elder woman didn’t seem to be, she seemed to understand it, almost to the point of being…familiar with it. As if he’d always had that look about him.

What her neighbor did next, none of the adults expected.

She turned around and hugged the man, the criminal, tightly to her smaller frame, arms wrapped around him and fiercely pushing his head to her shoulder, like a mother would hug her child.

For several moments, none of them moved, but Chat Noir had started to raise his hands.

Marinette tensed, as if expecting an attack, for him to somehow harm the elderly kind lady she’d come to enjoy spending the occasional days with, but instead, his arms came to hug her back, gently, almost as if he was terrified of breaking her.

A deep shuddering breath left him and he buried his face into her greying hair, completely hiding his expression from the silent policewoman behind them watching their every move.

And in that moment, in the sudden stillness of the room and the peacefulness and warmth shared between the two still hugging people, Marinette wondered if the rules her job dictated her to follow were worth following if it meant breaking up what she saw before her.

A _family_.

It was another half an hour of talking, mostly between Chat Noir and Marianne or Marinette and her, until the old woman left, with the promise to check up on them occasionally.

The stillness was back in the room, but lacking the distinctive familial warmth it had before. Now it was just still and nothing else.

Marinette was the first to break the silence, grabbing her apartment keys, wallet and a large duffel bag. “Let’s go.” Chat Noir didn’t question her oddly enough, just pausing to drain the rest of the coffee still left in his mug, before setting it aside on the table, fingers brushing against its porcelain surface. Marinette’s gaze briefly flickered to it, before she led Chat Noir outside, a more reinforced version of the standard issued cuffs back on him, along with something black and fluffy dangling on her fingertips.

The look Chat Noir gave her could’ve brought even Kim to his knees. “No.” his answer was simple and firm and he would _not_.

The policewoman left no room for argument, stretching the material over his hands, each glove long enough to cover the silver of the cuffs. She couldn’t do anything about the chain dangling between, she just hoped not too many people would notice so long as he kept his hands low.

“We don’t want to attract too much attention.”

He huffed. “Right.” His gaze pointedly traveled to her hips, more precisely the small of her back, where he knew she’d a concealed gun or two strapped to her. He tried not to linger on her hips, aware of her bluebell eyes focused on him.

She rolled her eyes, pulling him along by the chain. “They’re hidden.”

“And I’m a woman.” Came the sarcastic remark.

Marinette couldn’t resist. “Explains your fussiness.”

“You’re insulting your own gender, cop.”

“I’m insulting the limited group it refers to, _criminal_.”

They fell back into the venomous banter they’d shared on occasions, gone was the mildly lighter atmosphere from this morning after their initial scuffle and the doctor’s visit.

Marinette thought back to the strange moment before Marianne had come into her apartment with her spare keys as they walked down the road with Chat Noir keeping step beside her.

Why had he sneaked up on her like that while she made coffee? Why had he been so close? Had that been a failed sneak attack? Had he wanted to knock her out and flee? Her healing injuries throbbed at the thought, knowing another physical confrontation would be risky. The only reassurance it gave her was, that he was injured too.

Discreetly, she glanced beside her at the man, watching his longer strides as they slowed to keep pace with her shorter strides, the way his body slowly began to relax the longer they were outside.

His eyes were closed, head tilted back as the wind blew in his face and messed up his already messy hair. It almost looked like...he was enjoying it?

Chat Noir inhaled deeply, chest pushing out before he exhaled, as if savoring the breath of fresh air he got. Marinette stared, having never seen such an expression on him before. It almost looked alien, as if it didn’t belong there.

Much to her chagrin, the idiot had noticed her staring, even with his eyes closed. How he managed to walk in a straight line with closed eyes, Marinette wouldn’t know.

“See something interesting lieutenant?” the snark was back full force and Marinette wished she could at least thump his head if not for the threat of being accused of unlawful abuse of power as a police officer.

She settled for a quick but meaningful tug at his chains, which caused a frown to cross his previously peaceful expression. “The neighbors have a new dog.”

When Chat Noir turned his head to inspect, he was met with a tank of a dog, a German Sheppard if memory served right, larger than average, it’s wary gaze staring straight at him.

He would’ve understood the staring had he been in the suit, but this undivided attention was unwarranted. What was that dog’s problem.

Despite himself, Chat Noir hissed, eyes narrowed at the canine.

The dog growled, before it barked, suddenly standing up from its position on the porch, rushing down the steps and on the grass. Chat Noir jumped, until he noted the chain around the dog’s neck, keeping it from stepping outside of the garden and the fence around it.

Marinette noticed the jump with an amused smile, eyebrows raising in smugness. “Is the kitty scared of a little dog?”

Chat Noir’s look was borderline murderous when it met her smug expression and he wished he wasn’t restrained. “That dog is larger than it’s average size. I’ll gladly throw you over the fence and get you acquainted, lieutenant.”

Her raised eyebrow was a challenge as it stared him down, his gaze remained unflinching on her. “Bold of you to assume you can throw me over a fence.”

He grinned, all teeth. “Bold of you to assume I _can’t_.”

Marinette was the first to break their staring contest, grip tightening around her bag, smiling at familiar faces that passed her by as they neared the marketplace.

“Bonjour, _mademoiselle_.” The sudden greeting startled them both and Marinette quickly turned her head to spot who greeted her.

_Oh no._

It was mister Ramier.

“M-mister Ramier! Bonjour!” Marinette smiled brightly, internally screaming at the untimely appearance of the man. She liked him, if not pitied him for his, shamefully often, visits to the precinct for feeding pigeons and attracting them with a whistle.

She had no idea where he constantly purchased a new whistle, but the police, sometimes even Marinette herself, had to apprehend him and take it away from him. She figured they had well over twenty-four of those whistles stashed somewhere by now.

He was a kind enough man, treating her to coffee or ice-cream when he felt guilty for taking up her time with ‘arresting’ him when she had desk duty. She would always smile and brush it off, saying she was there to help, but he would always insist to repay her kindness one way or another.

He was holding a small white pigeon statue in his hands with a blue bow on its neck, humbly offering it to the bewildered police woman. “This is for you madame! I wanted to thank you for setting me free before my discharge at the precinct and your unending kindness and patience.” There was a blush of embarrassment on his cheeks and Marinette laughed, appreciatively accepting his gift, admiring the craftsmanship.

She didn’t know much about him, but the older man, aside from his obsession with pigeons, seemed to of the creative type, if his craftsmanship was any evidence in the carefully made pigeon statue.

She smiled. “Thank you very much, Mr. Ramier, you really didn’t have to. It’s all I can do when the boss doesn’t look.” She giggled, knowing Luka would never keep the kind man in a cell overnight just for feeding pigeons, but he had the pressure to exactly follow the rules sometimes more than she did.

The man tipped his hat, smiling. “Nonsense! All those times you had to apprehend me for my bad habits, I apologize once again madame.” He bowed his head respectfully, before tipping his hat towards Chat Noir. “Ah, bonjour young man.”

The criminal nodded, an unfamiliar, deceptively kind smile on his lips. “Bonjour, monsieur.” Marinette was mildly surprised how polite and… _nice_ he sounded.

Mr. Ramier glanced at the blond, before noticing the gloves on his hands and the silver chain dangling between his wrists. “Oh what is this? A chain?” his face twisted into confusion and before Marinette could answer, a smug smirk curled Chat Noir’s lips.

Like the cat that got the canary.

And he opened his mouth. “Oh this?” he lifted his hands high, so that the man had a very good look. “It’s nothing, just a little toy my beloved princess gifted me. You know, between us, I usually like to keep things private, but sometimes, even I can’t resist the charm of exploring things out of my comfort zone.”

Mr. Ramier, bogeyed stared curiously at the younger male. “Comfort zone?” he failed to note the increasingly panicked look on Marinette’s face.

“Wait, I-“ Marinette was cut off by Chat Noir.

A sharp toothed smirk and a salacious wink greeted the man’s increased confusion. “Oh yes, monsieur! While I myself am not such a deviant, my princess here loves to explore things even outside of the bedroom! You see, being a policewoman, she has access to all sorts of equipment, she frequently uses chains and handcuffs on me, not that I mind, but when she brings out the baton, that’s where it gets _exciting_ -“

“B-Baton?!” Mr. Ramier, scarlet faced, looked like on the verge of having a heart attack, before Marinette moved behind Chat Noir and began pushing him forward roughly.

“I’m very sorry Mr. Ramier! Thank you for the gift again and have a lovely day!” she quickly pocketed the pigeon statue as she shouted over the dead sprint Marinette set, forcefully pushing the cackling man before her forward.

“Bye, bye mister Ramier!” Chat Noir was laughing like he never laughed before, his steps staggering with the unmovable force behind him and his laughter.

“You perverted crook! I should’ve let you alone with that dog!” she beat her small fists against his back, lightly, to escape charges she told herself, until his shoulders suddenly started to shake. Marinette paused, fists resting on his back. “Chat Noir?”

When she peeked over his shoulder, she could see him wiping at his eyes. Dread quickly started filling the pit of her stomach. Had she hit his wounds? Did they reopen?! Was he in such pain that he started to cry?!

When Marinette fully walked around Chat Noir to his front, his reaction stunned her.

He was _laughing_.

That _bastard._

Renewed anger wedged itself in her heart and Marinette was on the verge of beating him again. “Y-You- You!” her voice shook from the rage and embarrassment.

What would Mr. Ramier think now? Would he think of her as too unprofessional to be trusted? Would he report her? Would he never entrust her with protecting his pigeons again?

Marinette could already picture the news headlines.

_‘Parisian police woman engaging in deviant activities with dangerous criminal!’_

_‘Police woman misusing police equipment for personal sex plays with captured criminal!’_

_‘Criminal found shot dead after allegedly engaging in suspicious sexual activities with officer woman before her suicide!’_

Marinette shook her head, no, no, no! She couldn’t think like that! All she hoped was that this never reached Luka! What would _he_ think of her if he ever heard?!

_‘…Wow…I never took you for that kind of woman Marinette, I think we shouldn’t see each-other anymore.’_

Marinette dug her fingers into her hair, gnawing at her bottom lip until low chuckles reached her ears.

Chat Noir, the bastard, was still chuckling, wiping away at his eyes before he took several deep breaths and composed himself, holding his stomach gingerly. “Phew, damn, that was a _purrty_ good laugh if you ask _meow._ ”

There was something strange about this view, this view of Chat Noir she was seeing.

He looked carefree, a big smile on his face, the black mask not seeming menacing or dark, but playful, as if it added to his charm.

He didn’t have too bad of a laugh either.

Quickly slapping her cheeks, Marinette hit the chuckling man with her duffel bag, which had no effect at all thanks to its lightness. “Easy for _you_ to say! Ugh, now people will think I’m some sort of weird sexual deviant.”

They resumed their walk, thankfully, coming closer towards the market ahead, yet to be fully visited by its patrons this early in the morning. Chat Noir released another short chuckle, amusement coloring his voice. “Would it be that bad? You’re human, aren’t you? Besides, as if all cops don’t try out their equipment for that at least _once_. Don’t lie, lady cop.”

His smirk was firmly plastered to his face, even with the glare she sent his way. “Not everyone is as….as sick as you! There may be questionable police officers, but I highly doubt any of us abused our work equipment like that!” her cheeks were pink, at least she thought so, if the intense heat on her face was anything to go by.

Chat Noir shook his head, appearing to be in a better mood than before. “Well, if you told me I could lighten the mood by making sex jokes, I’d done that long ago!” the suggestive wiggling of his eyebrows spelled future trouble and Marinette jabbed a finger at his nose, catching him off guard.

“If you even _dare_ try that again, I’ll purchase a basement and throw you in it!”

“That’s abuse of power!”

“It’s for protection!” she shouted back.

“Just like condoms are but I don’t see _you_ using th-ow! _Meowch!_ ” a hand was tugging on his ear and Chat Noir relented, being pulled down to Marinette’s height, a death glare straight in his face.

“Listen you mangy cat! One more inappropriate word from you and I’ll order Luka to watch over you from now on!” she was dead serious, eyebrows drawn together and eyes narrowed dangerously.

Chat Noir huffed, hissing at the ringing pain in his ear. “Tch, you can’t order him around, he’s your superior isn’t he?” he rose an eyebrow, seriously questioning if she could.

She turned her nose in the air, huffing. “Oh really? If I ask nicely and file in a detailed form why I’m unable to continue watching over you, it’s either him or La Sante.” Chat Noir bristled, scoffing indignantly.

“I’ll choose prison anytime, thanks.” His curt answer made her sigh and she shook her head.

Finally, after the agonizing stunt earlier, silence settled between them as they reached the marketplace, a few people looking at the wares here and there, some stall owners still setting up their produce.

Marinette didn’t need much, just some vegetables, meat and fruits. She hadn’t had half as much time to shop, especially with her house guest taking up nearly all her attention.

What would they even eat today? She couldn’t just randomly buy food.

She glanced at the silent man beside her, contemplating whether or not she should ask for his input.

She decided against it, he’d humiliated her enough today, he would eat whatever she would, she didn’t care if he didn’t like it. He made her suffer, so she could allow herself to make him suffer a bit too.

She heard a soft hiss, watching as Chat Noir winced and held his side, his injuries probably acting up again.

Marinette frowned, feeling her heart clench in sympathy, but the professional side of her stubbornly curbed down the feeling, trying not to let these feelings cloud her judgement and duty.

_He hurt you! He could’ve killed you, Marinette!_

She froze mid-way on entering the grocery store, quickly regaining her step after faltering for a moment, absentmindedly grabbing a shopping cart.

Luka’s words echoed in her mind.

_I’m sending him to La Sante._

_He hurt you!_

She had tried to soothe his anger, his concern for her. Marinette would never admit it, not to him, but it had scared her seeing him like that, angry and out of control, it wasn’t the usual calm, composed man who meditated and played music to soothe others. It was the marine they’d conditioned to kill and Marinette had feared the marine would’ve won the fight had she not pleaded for mercy for Chat Noir.

_Please Luka, do it for me._

She remembered the expression on his face, remembered seeing the inner battle raging a war within him.

He was fighting against protecting his friend and acting on duty, she knew the struggle all too well. If one didn’t completely isolate themselves, it was a constant struggle that never went away with the job.

You took the troubles from work home, but you always hope that you never bring home into work, not because you couldn’t but because it’s dangerous.

Marinette had heard of too many police officers losing partners in duty, family members, friends who got involved and went to the wrong place at the wrong time.

She was lucky, or not, that most of her friends worked in a environment where danger was second nature. Luka used to be a marine, Alix was a fire fighter, Juleka was a pathologist, Kim and Ivan were police officers, Alya was a reckless, scoop-obsessed reporter and Nino was known to tread in circles where it was better to have a gun than a friendly smile. Not even ‘innocent’ job professions like the music industry were free of criminal activity, Marinette had apprehended too many fallen stars, either due to drug abuse or physical disputes between artists.

The only people she thought were relatively safe were Rose and Nathaniel, Rose was a florist and Nathaniel an artist, but due to their connection to Juleka and Marinette and the others, even they weren’t completely safe.

“Hey, are we going to stand here all day?” Chat Noir tilted his head, watching the faraway expression on the cop’s face warily.

Why was she zoning out? He could use this opportunity to get away!

Granted, with his hands cuffed and foot adorned with a darned tracking device, he wasn’t sure how far he would come before he found something to untie his hands. Slipping free from handcuffs wasn’t difficult, but the reinforced ones were smaller, more jagged and constricted the more you struggled.

He glanced outside through the shop windows. He wasn’t too keen on wandering around, not with his limited knowledge of the terrain, thankfully the cop brought him with her. He had a good opportunity to memorize his surroundings and map out possible escape routes.

A tug on his chains made him freeze. “Let’s get going.” He snorted at her but said nothing, following her as she picked out some leeks, a bundle of carrots, celery root, parsley and salad.

He watched in disinterest, spying chicken meat, something that vaguely looked like fruit, kiwis, apples, bananas and-

His eyes blew wide open and he reflexively leaned over her back, chest pressed to her back, causing a startled yelp to escape the smaller woman. “Hey! What are you-“

“Is…Is that passion fruit?” it has been a little weakness of his since his younger days, he loved that fruit to bits.

“Ow, get off me! And yes, it is passion fruit. What about it?” the cop glanced at him in confusion and bewilderment, obviously not appreciating his sudden closeness.

He cleared his throat, moving away, finally putting some distance between them. “…Nothing.” He straightened himself, remembering his place.

It wasn’t like they were going shopping _together._

He tagged along due to his unique status as a criminal, he was more like a toddler to be supervised.

His input wasn’t needed nor wanted.

He turned his head, watching the other people, mostly couples, families, some old people and the occasional lonely souls buying pre-made food.

Chat Noir heard several thuds, before turning is head towards the shopping cart the lady cop was pushing.

In it, beside the vegetables and the meat, was a bundle of four, maybe five purple and yellow passion fruits.

He desperately tried to fight down the vaguely familiar feeling in his chest at the sight, walking alongside her and the cart.

It felt oddly like contentment.

* * *

 

_Half an hour later…_

“I can’t believe you’re abusing your charge like this.”

Marinette fixed him with an exasperated glare. “Firstly, you’re not my charge, you’re a criminal I need to watch over.”

“Same thing.”

“Secondly,” she pursed her lips, fighting back a smile. “This was the only way I saw you making yourself useful.”

Chat Noir frowned, trudging beside her, carrying the largest of the bags, the two long straps right over his head, the duffel bag covering most of his torso and with it the sight of his bound hands.

“Labor abuse.” He snarked.

Marinette wished she could flip him the bird. “Mental torment.”

Chat Noir looked at her aghast. “I’m not mentally _purrmenting_ you! You got a few screws loose, lieutenant.”

“Uh-huh. If I do, then there’s a whole cog missing with you.”

Chat Noir paused, as if contemplating her remark, before shrugging even with the heavy bag around him. “Touché.”

The silence only lasted for precious seconds before he opened his mouth again. “So, what are we eating today?”

“Stir fried rice with meat and vegetables. And soup.”

Chat Noir thought for a moment before deciding it fit his palette. “…Good choice. Approved.”

“Thankfully the mighty Chat Noir approved.”

“Someone’s _hissy_.”

She suddenly rounded on him and Chat Noir was mildly glad the big duffel bag was between them, least the lieutenant punched a hole through his chest.

Her bluebell eyes screamed murder. “Luka or La Sante?”

Those two words landed like a brick wall between them, shutting down all and any silly things Chat Noir thought to say during their short walk back to her apartment, grumbling silently under his breath as he followed her, muttering about stupid snakes and stuffy prisons.

And moody lieutenants.

* * *

 

“I’m heading out Jule. Take care.” He waved at his sister a final time, getting a wave and smile back before walking towards the elevator and breathing in the better air inside.

Going into the morgue was never very…pleasant smelling, he seriously respected Juleka for entering that field of work, also due to the intense smell one had to get used to. Still, he always visited her whenever he could, despite the smell.

Leaning against the elevator wall, Luka took out his phone and checked his messages, seeing a message from Marinette.

He rose an eyebrow at the strange sentences.

_‘I’m THIS close to strangling him! I swear, if he makes a inappropriate joke ONE more time!’_

Luka frowned, scrolling down further.

_‘Do you know what he said to Mr. Ramier? He actually insinuated I’m into – into BDSM play! He said I used the cuffs on him Alya! He said it gets ‘exciting’ when I use the baton! ThE BATON! AlYA help! I don’t know what to do anymore!’_

Luka, with increasing confusion and amusement, scrolled down further.

_‘I threatened him, I finally did. He stopped, the cat obviously knows what’s good for him. I threatened him by either sending him to Luka for supervising or to La Sante. He said he’ll behave, if I’d known this sooner I’d have done that. It would’ve spared poor Mr. Ramier. Who knows what he thinks of me now? He’ll never trust me with his pigeons again, Alya!’_

The man stifled a chuckle, scrolling down further. Did she compare him to La Sante?

_‘What if Luka somehow finds out about this?! I’d DIE if he ever hears what that stupid criminal said, Alya! It’s so embarrassing! Can you believe Chat Noir said he was sure at least half of us used our equipment for ‘that’? Can you? No wait, don’t answer that, you would probably agree.’_

Luka chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

He glanced up at the display, six more floors to go….

His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he began typing his reply, a small blush on his cheeks.

* * *

 

Marinette carefully secured the mug, making sure not to touch its sides as she closed the plastic zip bag and quickly wrote Chat Noir’s name on it, for Juleka to inspect for fingerprints.

If he wasn’t in their database, then she would eat a sock.

She glanced behind her, spying Chat Noir laying flat on his back on the couch, a hand lightly resting on his stomach.

She rolled her eyes, mildly pleased at his pain, it was some form of small payback for his earlier inappropriate teasing.

Her phone tinged with new messages, most probably from Alya, whom she sent updates to about today’s events. If anyone would know what to do, it was her.

Grabbing her phone, Marinette unlocked it and opened her messages, tapping on the new ones she received.

There was only one problem.

That was not Alya’s name.

It read _‘Luka Couffaine’_ , with new messages under the ones she’d supposedly sent Alya.

Marinette’s heart stopped when she read the first line.

_‘While I myself think cuffs shouldn’t be too much of a violation, don’t you think comparing me to one of the most infamous prisons in Paris a little harsh, little melody?’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you soon! Thanks for reading! Any ideas what more Luka wrote after that? ^.^


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13** _

__

_‘While I myself think cuffs shouldn’t be too much of a violation, don’t you think comparing me to one of the most infamous prisons in Paris a little harsh, little melody?’_

The screen shook, the hands that held it trembling violently.

Bluebell eyes quickly glanced towards the now sitting criminal in her living room. They’d come back from their trip to the store and Marinette had set to prepare everything for their meal. She’d tried thinking of ways to make the bored criminal useful, maybe something to do with peeling carrots, or something more safe without the use of any potential weapon.

Then again, _anything_ could be used as a weapon.

Luka’s message seemed to burn holes through her skull and it had been five minutes since he sent it to her and she had yet to reply.

Then, the idiot spoke. “Whatcha staring at lieutenant?”

Repressing the urge to throw something at him, Marinette snarled back viciously. “Nothing!”

She could almost imagine the invisible cat ears standing at attention on top of the man’s head and she silently cursed herself for her shaky voice.

“Oh? That doesn’t sound like _nothing_.”

Rolling her eyes at the sing-song voice, Marinette resolutely turned her back to him, after stealing a few glances to make sure he remained where he was.

Then, she began to type.

_‘Sir-! No I mean, colonel Cou-I-I mean LUKA! I’m so sorry! I- that had been for Alya!’_

She hit send without thinking, her flying fingers too quick for her brain to catch up. Then she quickly typed a follow-up message.

‘ _It was a joke! Just a joke! None of it is true!’_

She slapped her face, “ _Real smooth, Marinette. He isn’t that oblivious.”_ She thought to herself, before typing a third message to somehow save her skin.

“Hm, I suggest sending nudes, seems to be trendy these days.”

The shrill yelp Marinette released rang in his ears painfully loud and he hissed, drawing his head away from hovering over her shoulder. The cop pressed her phone to her chest, hiding the messages from prying eyes, her gaze shooting daggers at him.

Oh if only looks could kill…

“Y-You-! Stop spying on me!! It’s a violation! You’re a pervert!” Marinette looked ready to throw something at him now.

Chat Noir huffed, leaning against the counter easily, bound hands resting in front of him leisurely. “Me? A pervert? Who saw whom naked?”

Marinette jabbed a finger in his direction, murder written clearly in her eyes. “Stop lying! Nino is the only one who ever saw you!”

A sigh. “ _Unfurtunately_.” Silence settled between them for a brief moment, before Chat Noir opened his mouth again. “You think police boy will bite? I mean, for your obvious lies, not bite _you_.” A devious smirk curled his lips and he easily dodged the swipe made for his shoulder.

Marinette’s hands were back at her sides, shaking in annoyance at the _audacity_ of this sick-

_Ping!_

Chat Noir’s smirk widened. “Looks like the snake sent a message.” He relished the murderous expression on the woman’s face, until she carefully peeked at her phone, well aware of his prying gaze.

Heat flooded her cheeks.

“What? Did he send nudes? I don’t want to see them, thank you, but just to use as blackmail material against him.” She tuned out the annoying voice in the background, eyes firmly set on the two messages sent from Luka.

_‘It’s alright, Marinette, I was just teasing. Sounds like the cat’s been giving you a hard time.’_

_‘About the breakfast date for Monday, does that still stand? What are you in the mood for?’_

Smiling warmly, Marinette’s fingers hovered over the keyboard until a certain voice droned close to her ear. “Oh, how bold. Write ‘ _anything is fine, but what I’m really in the mood for is whipped cream on your-‘_ Ow! OW! VIOLENCE! RAPE! FIRE! SOMEONE HELP!” Marinette lightly swiped the newspapers over the criminal’s head, his hands coming up protectively as he rushed out of the kitchen.

“Be quiet! No food for you today! Ugh! I should’ve sent you to La Sante!” Marinette rested her fist against her hip, glaring daggers at the blond man who curled into a ball on the couch, warily staring at her like a cat watching a dog. “Stay _put_.”

When she turned her back, Chat Noir clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing when she typed on her phone.

Tch.

How stupid.

How could anyone even be friends with that _snake_?

Marinette stole a glance at the sulking man in the living room, until she walked back to the kitchen counter, the water slowly simmering in the pot.

* * *

Luka greeted the already working members of his unit, grabbing some coffee and heading for his office, stopping by Marc’s desk to chat with the younger male casually.

His phone dinged with a new message and Luka excused the dark-haired man for a minute to read it.

It was from Marinette.

A smile automatically stretched his lips.

_‘How about pancakes? I would love those! I can bring some chocolate and our lunches for the afternoon shift!’_

Marc rose an eyebrow at the positively glowing aura his superior exuded, the most tender expression on his face he’d ever seen when he glanced at his phone.

He didn’t think too deeply on the words he said next. “Oh, is that Marinette?”

Luka’s eyes widened and he quickly hid their chat, a mildly embarrassed grin on his lips. “Marc, say, didn’t Alya mention something about an article she needed a translation of?”

The young writer blinked rapidly, a look of fearful panic on his face at the mention of his other superior’s name. “Oh no! The article! I forgot!”

Luka made a mental note to make it up to the boy later on, he carefully balanced his coffee between arm and chest, while typing a reply with his free hand.

_‘You’re amazing, little melody. Pancakes it will be, I’ll add in some cinnamon I know you love that. It’s a date then.’_

Despite his age, Luka couldn’t help but feel secretly giddy.

His mood significantly lifted, especially with the quick reply he got from Marinette.

That had been just a few seconds.

‘ _You’re incredible Luka!! It’s a date! < 3”_

The heart emoji made his heart skip a beat and Luka quickly pocketed his phone and cleared his throat when a colleague walked towards him to hand him a small stack of papers.

* * *

Marinette dumped the cut vegetables in the simmering pot, tapping her fingers against her arm at the sight before her.

Chat Noir, a kitchen towel thrown across his lap, green eyes narrowed dangerously in concentration, sat at the table and felt like a child.

His hands were still chained, but they carefully peeled at the tough skin of the potatoes, the pile of unpeeled potatoes larger than the few meekly ones he’d finished peeling.

“I need the potatoes.”

His tongue stuck out in concentration, carefully peeling another side off. “You’ll get the potatoes.”

Marinette crossed her arms. “I need them now.”

Chat Noir grit his teeth, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “You’ll get them.”

“Now.”

“ _Soon_.”

Their eyes met over the sound of the bubbling water, annoyed green with equally annoyed blue clashing together in a battle of wills and a battlefield filled with flames of hatred.

The policewoman sighed heavily before she grabbed a small peeling knife, pulling out the chair opposite of Chat Noir and sitting down, grabbing a potato and beginning to peel.

The atmosphere was oddly…comfortable.

“You’re helping me?” the criminal rose an eyebrow, fingers still trying to clumsily peel at the tough brown skin without removing too much potato.

Marinette bit back a retort, heart still fluttering from Luka’s last message. “I’m speeding up the process.”

“You’re helping me.”

“I’m making sure I don’t kill you.”

He smirked, time passing by much faster when the cop occasionally engaged in banter with him, while they peeled the potatoes together.

The setting oddly reminded him of something domestic, of a life families led, the circumstances were anything but, and the woman sitting before him was something else entirely, but the image…almost seemed the same.

Chat Noir dreamed, if only for a moment, in this moment, that when all was said and done, he would sit at a table, with a woman, maybe a child.

In a different time.

A different life.

But maybe, just maybe, the same image.

* * *

The man bowed deeply, the wrapped gift box resting neatly in front of his kneeling form.

He dared not move an inch, body trembling not just from the injuries he was still recovering from, but the penetrating fear wedged deep into his every pore.

Like a toxin slowly but surely seeping into his body with every breath he took.

“ _Signore_ Vanetti.” The formal, whispered words echoed in the room and the trembling man waited for an answer with sweating palms and a stuttering heartbeat.

Light, confident footsteps echoed loudly down the hall and into the room, men dressed in black suits and women in red dresses following behind the man.

Dressed in a sharp, form-fitting suit and a dark red cravat, a smile curled the handsome Italian’s lips.

“Beni.” The kneeling man hesitantly raised his head, bandages peeking forth from his neck and the plaster from his cheek. “I see you’ve made contact with a certain cat.”

Beni trembled, flashbacks of glowing green eyes and pain causing his heart to speed up. “Y-Yes, signore.”

A chuckle. “Excellent. I’m sure my wife will be very pleased to hear this.”

The loud clicking of heels echoed through the corridor and with every click-clack from the heels, Beni’s heart stuttered and his scalp was bathed in sweat.

Oh no.

Not her.

 _Anything_ but her.

Black heels came into view, the only view he dared to allow himself, keeping his gaze respectfully low.

When the clicking of the heels stopped, Beni slowly, reluctantly began to raise his head again.

Toned, tan lags clad in see-through stockings came into view, long legs capable of breaking a man’s neck ending in wide hips covered by black fabric.

But the most terrifying view that shook him to his very bones, wasn’t the sight of the many members from the Italian mafia, nor was it Marco Vanetti’s unsettling, dangerous smile.

No.

It were the olive green eyes that spoke of kindness and empathy.

And the red painted lips curled into an eerie smirk, a predatory aura that commanded the respect and sought lifelong loyalty from each occupant in the room.

Including his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m sorry this was short, but the next chapter will be full of action and more plot progression, so this one was a little lighter :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! What did you think so far? :)


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